The Cullen Legacy
by pattyrose
Summary: Legacy - A gift; sometimes unknowingly bestowed. Bella met Edward in a London pub, never imagining where each would be 7 years later: he a Congressman fueled by ever-growing political ambition, she the woman with an explosive secret that can end all his dreams. But Bella might soon find that revenge isn't all it's cracked up to be, and that Edward may harbor his own dark secrets.
1. Chapter 1 - Reunion

**A/N: Hey there, guys. I'm back with a new one. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I'm home sick and feeling needy. :)**

**Give it a read and let me know what you think, and read the A/N at the end for some more info.**

**Characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes has agreed to take this ride with me once again as my BETA!**

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**Chapter 1 - Reunion**

I see him long before he sees me.

He's standing in the middle of the large, glittering ballroom, laughing it up with the President , a couple of other fellow party members, and Irina, of course - the model he's been shagging for the past few months. Arm in arm, she strokes his side – abs to thigh, back and forth and back again – as he listens intently to whatever President Martin is telling him. Even from here I can see her long, red-manicured nails scratching into his tuxedo, the way her expensive tips score into his sensitive ribs. Though he doesn't react outwardly, I remember how much he likes that.

Politics _and_ the promise of upcoming sex- he must be in his own personal heaven.

An image from seven years ago hits me, of _us_ back in that London flat when it was _my_ nails digging into his sweaty back, the delicious sounds he made, the way it spurred him on…

I blink rapidly to dispel the image. A trip down memory lane is _not_ why I'm here.

"There's the President," Michael whispers into my ear, "and a couple of congressmen. The young one is Congressman Cullen."

I nod as if I hadn't been able to figure that out on my own – even if Edward and I hadn't had that fuck-fest of a weekend a few years ago. _Everyone_ knows who Congressman Cullen is, even a Brit like me. He's as much celebrity as he is politician at this point.

And after all, this fundraiser is for him.

My eyes remain on Edward for a few seconds longer during this short reprieve before I rock his world to its core. I use the calm before the storm to compare this older version of him to the one that I once knew. He's let his hair grow longer; the reddish brown mane explodes in various unruly directions. His green eyes are as hypnotizing as ever; even from here they stand out like two glowing emeralds. He rests his weight casually over one hip; his tall frame still lean, still exuding power and confidence. His self-assurance hasn't diminished one iota. I can tell by that cocky grin of his that he seems to have only grown cockier. He still has that rich, deep laugh that automatically raises the spirits of everyone within hearing range. Bloody handsome as ever, he is - more so if I must be honest. Thirty-one suits him brilliantly.

I've arrived prepared for him, though. The red, floor-length, silk dress I'm wearing is meant to attract attention. The dress has been tailored to hug my curves in all the right places and based on the looks I've been getting it's doing its job quite well.

"You look beautiful tonight," Michael grins my way, his hand resting on the small of my back, rubbing circles round and round.

I grin back, my eyes still on Edward. "You've already told me that."

He chuckles and leaning close to my ear, whispers, "It bears repeating."

All of a sudden, Edward stops talking, mid-sentence it appears. He straightens out over his long legs. His shoulders stiffen. Emerald eyes roam round the room slowly, as if he senses _something_ askew in his perfect world. As they near me I drop my head down and let my long hair cascade loosely in front, shielding me from his view. My heart starts racing in a way it only ever has around him, but I ignore it and remind myself of why I'm here.

I remind myself that as beautiful as he is on the outside, on the inside he is one ugly, heartless bastard.

"Congressman Cullen!" Michael calls out. Out of my periphery, I see him raise a hand in the air and wave.

"He's coming over," Michael exclaims excitedly, doing up the buttons on his tuxedo jacket. "Let me introduce you."

I nod again and pick up my wine glass. My hair still flows like a waterfall down the side of my face, making it impossible for the Congressman to see me - just yet.

"Congressman Cullen," Michael says in a voice full of misplaced respect and admiration. He shakes the Congressman's hand. "You have a great turn-out tonight."

"Mr. Newton," Edward replies.

My heart jumps in my chest at his voice. It's sure and smooth all at once, just as I remember it.

He continues in that perfect politician's voice of his. "Thanks so much for attending. Your support means a lot to this campaign."

Despite my nerves, I grin sardonically to myself, staring into my wine glass. Perhaps it's the five-thousand-dollar-a-plate price tag that means the most to the campaign.

"You know you have my full support, Congressman," Michael acknowledges.

Edward introduces his famous model girlfriend while Michael makes a right old arse of himself - fawning and gushing. He finally recovers enough to say,

"May I introduce you to _my_ date this evening?"

I hear the pride in his voice and grin because I may not be a six-foot tall, blonde model, but I'm no bloody wallflower either; plus, I'm one of the highest-ranking execs in his corporation.

I look up and into Congressman Cullen's waiting eyes.

After seven years, Edward's expression shows no outward reaction to me. I'd be horribly gutted if I didn't know him better.

Michael makes the introductions, mentions that I'm heading one of his latest mergers and acquisitions at Newton Enterprises, and that I have been recruited from his London office. Edward's features display a keen interest, though no more than necessary. But though I may have only had one short weekend with him, I did learn quite a few bits. For example, I learned that while he was an expert at keeping emotion off his face, he could never completely keep it out of his eyes.

They go from bewilderment to incredulity to shock in the space of five seconds before it all leaches out, and all that's left is his pleasant, friendly expression.

I put a hand out to him. "Congressman Cullen."

He reaches for it straight away. When our hands meet, it's like we're back in that pub seven years ago, touching for the first time. The maddening tingle has not diminished one iota.

He introduces me to his girlfriend, and we give each other the requisite once-over beautiful women tend to give one another when meeting for the first time.

"_Isabella Swan,_" Edward drawls slowly, stretching out my name like the long neck of a swan itself. Of course I see the humor in it; this is probably the first time he's actually heard my full name.

"So, Ms. Swan," he continues, curling up one half of his mouth in that signature semi-smirk that apparently calls to the masses in this country, "how do you find the U.S.?"

"I find it to be absolutely brilliant. I'm rather disappointed that it took me so long to venture over."

"And do you see this as a permanent move or simply temporary?" he asks pleasantly.

"Well, that remains to be seen, Congressman."

"On what?"

"On quite a few things, actually."

He allows his eyes to rest on me for a couple of more seconds before blinking and turning back to Michael.

"Mr. Newton, it was great seeing you again. I hope that you and Ms. Swan enjoy the rest of the evening, and if either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you very much, Congressman," Michael beams, while I thank him too and offer up another smile. Then Edward and his girlfriend walk off arm in arm.

Eventually, our five-thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner is served. My eyes only occasionally stray round the room to Edward. He plays the politician perfectly, laughing in all the right places, looking solemn and interested when it is called for. The President leaves after only a short while, but he's made his appearance, and that's what counts.

You see, Edward is running for Senate, but if what he told me that weekend long ago still holds true - and I'm pretty sure that it does - then that's not his end goal. President Martin is considered a shoe in for re-election in a few months. If Edward wins the Senate seat, that gives him four years to get ready, to turn the required age of thirty-five - to win.

Or, at least, that would've been the plan had I not shown up here tonight.

Now things may get a bit more…complicated for the Congressman.

I watch the way the room – men and women, old and young - watches him; the fascination on their faces; the adoration for the young Congressman from New York.

Oh yes, in a few years, he would've been a shoe-in.

After a couple of dances with Michael, I excuse myself to go to the washroom.

The washroom walls are all mirrored, top to bottom, perfectly polished, not a blemish anywhere. I watch myself walk in. My hair flows in spiraling waves round my shoulders, long and shining. The red dress billows at my ankles then splits invitingly in the front before hugging my thighs and lifting my breasts provocatively. The black stilettos give my legs a slinky, sensuous length. Seven years ago, the plans I had for my life were so simple; so different from what they've become. Seven years ago he stepped into my life and invited me to picture myself at his side; let me believe that _I_ would be with him as he rose through the political world in America.

Seven years ago, he lied.

Now, he'll pay.

I use the loo and come out and wash my hands. The sink and counter are also all mirrored glass. It makes me pity the poor woman sitting on a stool to my right. She must have to work hard to keep it all as clean and sparkling as it is. I smile at her and drop a fiver in her dish before turning to walk out.

A massively muscular dark-haired man suited in black from head to foot rushes in. At first I think he's made a mistake and actually meant to go into the men's room, but then I watch as he checks every single stall before asking the woman on the stool to step out for a moment.

He eyes me carefully and for a split second he looks vaguely familiar…

Then he walks out.

I stand stock still, as if balanced over a precipice – which I am. I won't be able to turn back after this.

A few moments later, Edward walks in.

His eyes find me, and in an instant, he rushes over and cups my face in his hands before his mouth crashes over mine. I don't even have time to protest when he parts my lips with his tongue.

Or maybe that's just an excuse, because honestly I don't even try to protest. I put up no sort of fight. My hands reach up and fist his hair and bloody ell it's as soft as I remember it. He groans into my mouth while our tongues fight for dominance all while he walks me backwards and drops his hands to my hips, lifting me up onto the edge of the sink. Gathering up the material of my long dress, he bunches it over my thighs, fitting himself in between them. All the while, his mouth doesn't let up over mine.

"Bella, it _is_ you," he murmurs against my neck when we come up for air. His mouth sucks demandingly at my heated skin, and I crane up to give him better access.

"I wasn't sure," he continues, his hands trailing down my shoulders, squeezing tight, gripping my hips. He pulls back slightly while his darkened eyes roam up and down my body. "You look so different. You _sound_ so different." He attacks my mouth again with hard, demanding kisses. "But it is you," he breathes into my mouth. "It _is_ you."

Our tongues tangle together again, and this time I moan and drop my hands to his backside, pulling him in closer, feeling his hardened cock right at my apex.

"_Bella_," he groans, in that way he had of making my name sound like a prayer.

I shift my hips against him while flashes of he and I tangled in between soft, white sheets invade my mind.

"Have you missed me, Edward?" I whisper, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth.

"Jesus, Bella, you have no idea." He grinds against me, instantly making me wetter than I've been in years, because my mind and body _both_ remember how fantastic he was – how fantastic _we_ were.

"What have you missed?" I lick his lips and then wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into the back of his thighs, holding him captive against me.

He doesn't seem to mind.

"Tell me what you've missed about me." I say in a low, sultry voice, throwing my head back while he moves deliciously against me – just the way I remember. He's not the type to merely move back and forth, he circles round and round with his lean hips, hitting me from every angle.

He fists my long hair hard, pulling it behind me, making my back arch all the more.

"I've missed your hair," he growls, grinding so insistently it's almost painful in its gloriousness.

He lets go of my hair with one hand and drops it to my breast, molding it firmly in his hands, running his thumb against my hardened nipple. I cry out - of course I do.

"I've missed your beautiful tits." His hand drops to my backside, which he cups and strokes and fondles with long, skilled fingers. "I've missed your perfect, round ass."

"What else?" I beg breathlessly, feeling that tingling deep in my stomach, that building sensation. He's getting me there quick. "Tell me what else."

He grins - that heady grin of his that oozes sex and power and control. I almost come undone right then and there.

But I manage to hold back. "_Show_ me what else."

He holds my gaze and the hand at my backside drags forward, digging into my bare hip, pushing aside the lace of my thong. He slides a finger deep inside and we both cry out, strangled, feral – locked in each other's eyes.

"I've missed your heat. I've missed your moistness and your heat." He moans while his finger pumps in and out of me expertly. "I've missed being inside you."

"_Oh, Oh,_" I whimper and drop my head helplessly, grabbing his hand and pushing another one of his long fingers in, moving round it and letting go.

He grips the hair at the nape of my neck, raising my head up and making me hold his gaze while I convulse around his fingers. I remember he likes this too.

"I've missed watching you come," he growls lowly, as if reading my mind.

When I finally have my wits about me again, I flash him a grin of my own.

"You've missed watching me come? How about fucking me? Have you missed fucking me, Edward?"

For a split second he seems startled – uncertain as to how to respond. This isn't the Bella that he knows. But then he lets out a long groan and starts undoing his fly.

"Yes, Bella. Yes, I've missed fucking you. I've missed-"

I don't get to hear what that last thing he's missed about me is, because I wrap my hand around his thick cock and grip and crush so hard that when I finally let go he drops to his knees with a high-pitched whimper.

For a couple of endless minutes, he can't speak or look up.

After a while, I snort and gingerly climb off of the sink, momentarily pitying the cleaning lady once again because now she has to clean off my arse-print.

With Edward still on his knees on the floor, I circumvent him and adjust my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles, turning this way and that in front of the mirrors to make sure I look presentable. I smooth down my hair and then open up my black clutch and pull out a hundred dollar bill - which I drop into the cleaning lady's dish.

"Goddamnit." He's panting, his shoulders rising and falling quickly. "Are you fucking insane? What the hell was that for?"

I glance down at his prostrate reflection through the mirror while I fix my lipstick, applying it round and round.

"What was that for?" I repeat, raising my brows at him through the mirror.

I whip around and drop down in front of him, where he's still breathing hard and carefully sticking his now limp knob back into his trousers.

I cock my head to the side. "That, Congressman, was for coming in here and assuming that I am _still_ your weekend slut."

"Christ, Bella, I never-"

"You've missed me, have you, Love?" I drop the well-polished English and let my accent revert to the cockney he once claimed he loved. "Well, don't fret. You'll be getting your fill of me in the near future, you will. This here was just a taste, _Congressman Cullen_, of how I have you by the bollocks. You've missed me?" I repeat. "Trust me, pretty soon you'll wish you'd never laid eyes on me again."

And with that, I get up and make my way out of the washroom.

On my way out I spot the muscular security bloke standing a few feet away – waiting. His eyes meet mine, full of knowing amusement. I suppose this isn't the first time he's been sent into a woman's washroom to clear it out for the future leader of the free world.

"You'd better go get your congressman there a bag of ice," I call out as I pass him.

I think I hear him chuckle as he walks towards the washroom.

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**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Love to hear from you guys. Let me know what you're thinking…**

**A few housekeeping items:**

**Bella is from the UK, so if she says anything in British English that you don't really understand from the context, just drop me a line and I'll be glad to explain it. I was thinking of including a British English-to-American English translation guide at the end of each chapter, LOL, but that might get tiring for me as well as for you guys.**

_**I**_** am NOT from the UK, so if I get any of the phrases/words wrong, I apologize profusely, and mean no offense or disrespect. As some of you may have guessed already from some of my comments, I actually have a thing for all things British. **

**I'm also not a politician, American or British, so if I get anything wrong in that vein, please excuse me once again.**

**First few chapters will alternate between present and past in BPOV.**

**There will be EVENTUAL EPOV chapters, but not quite yet. **

**I expect this to update twice weekly, usually on Tuesdays and Fridays, but don't come at me with a pitchfork if RL gets in the way!**

*****AND QUITE IMPORTANT*** If you have any questions about my views on angst and Happily Ever Afters, please go to my profile!**

**Anything else? Ask away and yeah…let me know what you're thinking…**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Mile End Pub

**Totally blown away and grateful for the response to the first chapter! I so loved, loved, loved hearing from you guys, both established readers to my stories as well as new ones. Some of you already have so many theories and I love hearing them! So welcome one and all, and I hope you continue enjoying the story!**

**Characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes is my lovely beta (and also came up with the title to this story, btw!)**

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**Chapter 2 – Mile End Pub, London**

**Seven Years Ago**

The Yanks at the corner booth are bloody noisy bastards. They laugh and clink their pints together, arms round one another's shoulders as they sway back and forth and sing "God Save the Queen" – even though I believe that's Kelly Clarkson coming through the speakers. Actually sorry, that seems to be their American version they're singing - only they're replacing a few lyrics with some rather randy alternatives. There's one laugh in particular that I keep hearing, richer than the rest. It's contagious; as soon as it goes up, every other voice in the group follows. And for some reason, it makes me laugh along with it.

"_They_ seem to be having a grand old time," Rosalie chuckles beside me. She's drying out the pints and handing them to me so that I can refill them for the blokes' fifth round of the night.

I glance up at them for a second and grin. "Bloody shit-faced, they are."

She laughs.

"I think they're soldiers," I say.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, look, they've all got those short buzz cuts, plus I heard them thank one of them for coming up with the idea of coming to London on their leave instead of going home to the States."

Rosalie nods slowly, considering this bit of info. "I wouldn't mind shagging an American soldier out here on leave. Give him some inspiration to hold on to while he's back there in that lonely desert."

I laugh heartily and bump her with my hip. "Rose!"

She laughs in return, throwing her head back. Her long, blonde hair sways prettily behind her. I glance at the blokes again. Some of them appear to be looking our way, whispering and chuckling with one another.

Rose keeps a sultry grin on her face. "Let me know if you need any help over there, yeah?"

"Yeah," I smirk as she saunters away to take care of her customers.

Jake leans into me from behind and murmurs in my ear. "Bunch of obnoxious wankers, aren't they?"

I roll my eyes and move myself out from under him, arranging the mugs on a tray. I've told him not to come up behind me like that.

"It's Friday night. They're a bunch of Americans taking the piss while on holiday. Nothin' wrong with that, is there?"

"You want me to take those over for you?" he asks, jerking his chin towards the full tray of mugs.

"I've got it, thanks," I say picking up the tray and moving towards the booth.

I'm quite aware that Jake has got a thing for me. Ever since Rose got me this job here at his pub, he goes out of his way to be helpful , to talk to me, to put a hand on my shoulder, to wipe an invisible smudge off my face. A bit annoying it is, but he's a good sort of bloke, not bad to look at either: quite tall, with uncommonly jet black hair and almost equally dark eyes. Rose thinks I'm mad not to give him a go, but it's just not there. So in the interest of being fair, I've told him that I'm not interested in romantic relationships at the moment – that my sole focus is to get through the next three years of university without issue.

Unfortunately, my words appear to be having a bit of a hard time penetrating his thick skull.

I make my way slowly to the noisy booth full of about half a dozen plastered blokes, my eyes firmly on the tray so as to prevent an accident. As soon as I near the table, I start unloading, eyes still fixed on my cargo.

When the tray tips to the left, I panic, but a hand shoots out suddenly and steadies the tray from the corner, helping me balance it.

I look up and into the most brilliant green eyes I have ever imagined. I feel like I gaze into them for an entire eternity before my voice returns to me.

"Thank you," I manage to murmur, still lost in his eyes.

"You're welcome," he responds.

I resume my silent gazing.

"Looks like you've caught another one, Cullen," someone in the booth snickers.

"_My hero,"_ another one calls out mockingly, in a high-pitched voice that I assume is supposed to be me.

Rounds of laughter follow.

Apparently I'm behaving like some sort of dazed twit.

I blink and try to gather my wits, bringing my eyes down to the lager mugs once more and letting my hair fall round my cheeks to cover the flush of heat to my face as I empty the tray of the last two remaining mugs.

Bloody wankers indeed.

I look up and grin despite my embarrassment, making it a point to avoid those green eyes this time.

"Do you gentleman need anything else?" I distribute more napkins round the booth.

"Yeah, how 'bout giving me your number, sweetheart?"

"Or your address?"

"Or a sweet kiss!"

"Better yet, why don't you bring your friend around here, and we can all really party!"

That appears to merit even more raucous laughter and whistles. They tell me I have pretty eyes and gorgeous hair. I thank them, all smiles as I stand there bouncing on the heels of my plates and waiting to see if any of them need anything they actually stand a chance in bloody hell of getting.

They all bleeding leer at me - randy gits.

"Nothing else for now, then?" I say with a forced grin. "Right. Just let me know when you're ready for your next round."

As I start to walk off, a hand grips my wrist and jerks me back. I whip around, startled and more than a little cheesed off at the cheek on whoever has had the bullocks to touch me.

"Are you blooming-" I don't get the chance to finish because the one with the green eyes grabs my hand, and with his other hand forcefully wrenches the other hand off my wrist.

"Fuck! What the hell was that for?"

"Don't. Touch her," Green Eyes growls in a low, threatening tone.

I stand there, frozen, holding my one hand in the other - not because it hurts. Simply because when Green Eyes touched me, it sent the most maddening current tingling throughout my entire body. My toes are curling at this very moment.

"What the hell?" The cheeky one howls. "I was just gonna have some fun with her!" He absolutely glowers at Green Eyes, his hand wrapped round his wrist. He _does_ hold his as if in pain.

"She's not here for your amusement," Green Eyes responds through a tight jaw. "Now you look up at her and apologize."

"Fuck you," the cheeky one snorts with a chuckle.

The table falls silent.

"Soldier, fall in," one of the other guys calls out, voice much more solemn than a few moments ago. "You've had one too many, but that's no excuse to forget that's your sergeant you're speaking to."

"Fuck that. We're thousands of miles from the fucking desert right now." He squares his jaw and glares straight ahead.

"Apologize to the young lady _now_," Sergeant Green Eyes repeats, nostrils flaring.

The cheeky wanker slowly turns his eyes back to Sergeant Green Eyes and stands up, taking two steps to where Green Eyes is seated. He glares down at him.

"You gonna make me?"

"Oh shit," one of them mutters.

"Soldier, _stand down_," the solemn one commands, his voice a full-on warning now.

Bloody ell, 'oh shit' is right. These blokes are about to start a barney, and I'm about to get caught right in the middle of it.

Green Eyes stands up. When he does, I get a good look at him and bloody effin' ell.

I was blindsided by the eyes before, because surrounding them is a perfect face with a perfectly square jaw - which at the moment is clenched quite tightly. His hair isn't as short as the rest of them, and though it's dark in this pub, under the recessed light, the strands shimmer with hints of brown and red. He's tall, over six feet, shoulders broad and quite rigid. In faded blue denims and a black tee, he looks lean yet powerful, arms lined with sinewy veins and muscle. And there's something else about him, something that exudes control and authority; that absolutely demands respect and subordination.

It's also obvious that though the rest may be plastered, he is nowhere near it.

"Yes, James," he says, in a voice that is at once smooth yet commanding. His face is serene, almost expressionless, but his eyes…

"If I have to, I _will_ make you."

"What's the problem over here?" I hear Jake ask behind me.

Though Jake is massive himself, none of the blokes pay him any mind. Cheeky James and Sergeant Green Eyes are locked in a war of wills, and the rest are watching them intently.

The cheeky one abruptly draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He then turns to me with a wicked grin.

"I _apologize_."

I blink and then nod quickly. Everyone is still maddeningly silent.

"Right," Jake says, "You blokes have had enough, and I think it's time you all left."

James roughly picks up his jacket and without looking at any of his group storms the pub exit.

"McCarty, go after him," Sergeant Green Eyes orders.

Without a word, the solemn one from before lunges out of his seat and follows the cheeky one out.

Much more sober than a few minutes ago, the rest of the group starts pulling out their wallets and each drop some money over the booth before following James and McCarty out.

Finally, Sergeant Green Eyes pulls his own wallet out of his back pocket and drops more than a few quid over the booth.

He looks up at me when he speaks, his expression cool and authoritative. "I apologize for the trouble." He then turns and with a confident strut, walks out of the pub, leaving me staring at his bum as he goes.

It's actually a very nice bum.

OOOOOOOOOO

A few hours later, Rose, Leah - Jake's sister, who also works with us - and I have finished wiping down the pub. The rest of the staff has already gone home, but since Rose, Leah and I are flat mates, we all stay behind to close up.

Once all is done, we shut off the lights and step out into the cool, night air. The pub is located directly under the Green Bridge in Mile End, so though it's drizzling as usual here in jolly old London, the bridge itself gives us a reprieve from the rain. Jake asks us what our plans are for the rest of the night, and before I can give Rosalie a sign, she blurts that we have none.

"So hows about I come over and we watch some telly…or something?"

He's looking straight at me when he says the "or something" part.

"That sounds ace!" Rose replies, grinning my way. Leah responds with some equally affirmative phrase, and I turn away and sigh.

As we take the first couple of steps and I raise my hood over my head, Jake asks, "Bella, would you like to share my umbrella?"

"No, thanks. It doesn't look too bad, does it?" A brilliant idea suddenly hits me. "Besides, I'm going to take a walk through the park before heading home."

Mile End Park is located right above us, connected by the bridge.

"Are you mad?" Leah asks, while Rosalie simply smirks knowingly at me. "You can't walk the park now. It's dark and any number of lunatics might be prowling round."

I roll my eyes. "There are plenty of lights and traffic. It's perfectly safe."

Jake shakes his head - which makes me all the more determined to go.

"No, Bella. Leah's right. You can't go."

I raise a brow at him and then turn to Leah and Rose. "I'll see you both in a few."

As I walk away, Jake calls out, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Bloody ell, what does a girl have to do to get through to him?

I shake my head and start skipping off. "I've got it! Cheers!"

OOOOOOOOOO

The park is rather pretty, though I suppose dull compared to the meadow and lake and rose gardens in Hyde Park or the majestic palace in the middle of St. James Park. But Mile End Park has sufficient trees and a couple of walkways, one which leads to a small bridge that leads to a tiny little island in the middle of a lake. The lake also spreads out like a canal in places and I've spent quite a few afternoons riding bike round it. There's a floating market now in the summer, with barges that sell random knick-knacks as well as various snacks, but it's closed at this time of night.

Actually, there aren't many people out here at all. I suppose it's due to the rain, which has started falling more insistently. I pull my hood round my head tighter, but it's either this or go home and spend a late evening into early morning with Jake wanting to give me a go.

I'll take the rain.

My mind wanders to my mum and little sister back home. Maybe I'll take the rail tomorrow morning and go visit them and-

Someone pulls my hood down off my head and my heart drops to my bloody feet before I whirl around and find myself staring back into those green eyes from the pub.

"You just frightened the ever-living shite out of me!"

Green Eyes stands there, resting his weight over one hip, hands in his pockets. One half of his mouth lifts up into the most glorious grin imaginable. I am struck mute. Thank goodness he starts talking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I was actually trying to come up with a way to approach you without giving you a scare."

My brows furrow curiously while he stands there, something between a smirk and a smile forming on his face. I am now able to form words once more.

"How long have you been behind me?"

"Since you left the pub."

"You've been following me since I left the pub?"

He nods. "Your friends were right. It's not the safest thing for you to be out here alone at this time of night."

I purse my lips and study him. The rain is still falling, not hard, but not lightly either. Drops fall over his face, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's wearing an open bomber jacket, and his t shirt is getting rather wet – outlining a well-toned chest. He runs a hand through his hair to push it back. A few bits spike up here and there, and now it looks even more perfect than before.

I pull my hood over my head again and wrap my jacket closely round me, fully aware of how my hair turns into a bird's nest when moisture hits it. Rain doesn't seem to quite do for me what it does for him.

"So have you decided to listen to _your_ mates and be my hero now, is it?"

He snorts and looks down before lifting only his eyes, gazing at me through wet eyelashes.

My heart thumps.

"I know how to take care of myself."

"Do you?" he grins crookedly.

"My father was a copper – or rather a policeman."

"I understand the term 'copper'," he chuckles.

I nod. We stand there silently for a few moments.

"Are you going to keep walking?" he finally asks.

"Of course. It's the only way I'll get anywhere."

"Then I'll walk with you."

He doesn't phrase it as a question and neither does his tone imply that it's a request. But there's something about his voice, something ingrained in every single syllable he utters that is so full of confidence it sort of makes it impossible to say no to him.

"Okay."

At first we walk silently through the dark, wet path, but I am ever aware of his presence beside me. Not just because I keep nicking sideways glances his way, but because there is this mind-blowing heat that emanates from him. This current that almost makes me want to sidle up to him and huddle in there.

I stop stealing glances and turn my head to fully face him. He's staring straight ahead.

"Did your mates catch up with that cheeky wanker, then?"

He chuckles, eyes still on the path in front of us. We're circling the lake, which sparkles as with black jewels. The drops that fall over it create a soft tinkling sound as they bounce.

"Yes, they did. Once again, I apologize for that incident. James isn't usually such an asshole. It's my fault for allowing them all to drink so much tonight."

"Allowing them?" I ask with a raised brow.

"Yes, they're my responsibility."

"Because you're their sergeant?"

He nods. "Among other things, it's my job to keep everything in line, running as smoothly as possible."

There's a line forming in the space between his brows. I feel as if he takes his responsibilities extremely seriously.

"Well, he was definitely a plastered arsehole tonight," I say.

He finally turns and looks at me, and my breath catches quietly in my throat. I realize I've been waiting for him to look at me, to turn those green orbs my way once more. I'm as trapped in them as I was back in the pub. There's something about them…

"Tell me what you were about to say."

"Pardon?"

He grins and stops walking. I stop with him.

"Back at the pub when James grabbed you. What were you going to say to him?"

"What was I going to say?" I repeat.

He nods.

I draw in a deep breath, trying to remember, to imagine what my words would've been had I gotten them all out.

"I was going to say, 'What the blooming fuck is your problem, mate? Get your bloody paws off of me!"

He breaks out in the most beautiful laughter, and though I suspect he's somehow laughing _at_ me, I'm not offended. As I've said, besides his eyes, there's something about his laughter too. It's deep and rolls like the most pleasant wave, takes you away with it, catches you off guard and drowns you in it.

I start laughing too, somehow feeling proud, like I've pleased him.

When his laughter dies down, he looks at me again, green eyes sparkling in the darkness – almost glowing.

"I've never actually met anyone who…expresses herself," he stresses, "the way you do."

"Is this your first time in London, then?"

"No. I've been here before, with my father, but the people he's introduced me to all sound like the queen."

"That would be the Queen's English. What we round here speak is basically what you would call slang, with a bit of a cockney accent, I suppose. It's sort of like when you in America say '_y'all_' or '_dude_' or '_chill out_,'" I drawl, imitating an American accent – not his though; his sounds quite refined, unlike that of his mates back at the pub with their twangs and vowel-stretching. "But I do know how to speak proper English. Would you like a cup of tea with one lump of sugar or two?" I tease with a grin and an uplifted chin.

He laughs again. "I understand about slang and cockney accents. I _have_ heard them before. It's just never quite sounded the way it sounds coming from you."

And then he turns, and we resume our walking.

The path leads us to the small bridge, and we cross it onto the tiny island. It only has one large tree, with much smaller trees scattered about an s-shaped bench. Green Eyes reaches out and takes my hand, and though I'm startled I don't protest, not even when he weaves his fingers between my own. There's so much heat flowing between us I feel as if a bonfire is burning in the middle of this tiny island paradise.

He leads us to the bench and sits first before pulling me over his lap sideways.

I draw in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly through narrowed lips, my gaze firmly on his.

"So is this what your mate meant by 'you've caught another one?'"

"I have no idea what my mate meant," he smiles, but there's a sparkle in his eyes that makes me think otherwise.

"I don't go round sitting on random blokes' laps," I say, raising a brow - though I'm still sitting on his lap as I say it and making no move to get up, so I'm not quite sure how much of a point I'm actually making.

"And I don't go around sitting random girls on my lap." His green eyes bore into mine and that's when I realize what it is about his eyes. His face is solemn at the moment, but his eyes are absolutely burning.

I don't have time for any more thought though, or to ponder the cleverness of having me bum over the thighs of a man I barely know, because his eyes are searching mine and abruptly he seems to have found whatever it is he's looking for. His head inclines forward slowly, never breaking our gaze while my heart hammers against my chest. When his mouth finds mine, I remain stock still, even as he gently sucks on my lips. I breathe heavily into his mouth, and he groans and parts my lips with his tongue.

This is when I whimper and raise my hands to grip his short hair between my fingers as much as possible.

It's soft, both his hair and his tongue; tender. We kiss slow and languid while he grips the nape of my neck with one hand and strokes my thigh with the other. He tastes of mint and of lager and of the rain that falls around us, between us, sliding down our faces, into our mouths, mixing and becoming his and mine and ours. Everything is ours.

When I finally _must_ choose between breathing or passing out, I break the kiss, panting as he kisses my cheek and nose softly.

"I've wanted to do that since you brought over the first round," he murmurs into my ear, kissing my neck.

I wonder fleetingly what would've happened if they'd ended up at one of Rose's tables instead of mine.

I'm bewildered and confused and excited beyond anything I've ever been.

"I don't even know your name," I breathe incredulously, searching his eyes because I feel as if it's the only part of him I can truly trust.

"Sergeant Edward Anthony Cullen, of the U.S. Army Special Forces," he smirks. "What's your name?"

"Bella," I respond, still in a daze. "I'm Bella."

"_Bella_," he repeats, only in his voice it sounds like a prayer, like a plea.

"Bella, I don't want this night to end," he whispers.

I search his eyes once more, scanning one and then the other, unsure as to what I'm looking for, yet somehow it's there. It's there; I'm sure it is.

"Neither do I," I admit, shaking my head vehemently.

"Good," he grins, and then brings his mouth back to mine, and the way he kisses me this time simply confirms that the night is only just beginning.

* * *

**Thoughts? **

**I want to thank all my English lovelies who've offered to help me keep the British English language thing straight. Please let me know if I do phrase anything wrong! Thanks so much!**

**Frequently Asked Questions:**

_**Q: How long will the story be?**_

**A: Though I've got the story all done in my head, I don't exactly know how many chapters it will take to tell it. I think I can guarantee that it will be longer than 'Indecent Proposal.' Maybe as long as 'This is Who I Am,' perhaps even longer. So between 35 – 40 chapters. (Don't hold me to that though!)**

_**Q: How long will the chapters be?**_

**A: It will vary from chapter to chapter, depending on how much I need to tell for that scene, so I would say anywhere from five pages to twelve, usually about eight or so. I don't usually like making them longer than twelve. When that happens, I tend to split it into two chapters.**

_**Q: Which political party does Edward belong to?**_

**A: In the interest of keeping us all from killing each other and insulting each other's beliefs, I have not chosen a political party for Edward. (I really haven't, not even in my head).**

_**Q: What is the update schedule?**_

**A: Barring unforeseen circumstances (see below), I plan to update twice a week, usually Tuesdays and Fridays.**

**In that vein, my 10 year old son is predicting a zombie apocalypse for the weekend. He tells me this calmly while walking by me into the kitchen to serve himself a drink. Personally, I think he probably just spent a wee bit too much time with his x-box last weekend since I was too sick to stop him, and his imagination has run away with him. Moreover, an actual apocalypse of the zombie variety would take more than one weekend, in my opinion. Unless he is correct, I shall update again next Tuesday, otherwise, I think we may have bigger problems than what the heck happened between Bella and Edward. **

**Drop me a line and let me know if you have any other questions!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page, as are my views on angst, HEAs, and mean (not merely negative) reviews, if any of you are curious.**

**So, let me know what you're thinking...**


	3. Chapter 3 - ERA Magazine

**A/N: I'm _sooo_ enjoying hearing from you guys. Love all your varied thoughts. Keep 'em coming! :)**

**Beta'd by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 3 – ERA Magazine**

**Now:**

The room is buzzing with action – or as much action as you can get at a political fundraiser unless you're locked in a bathroom with the man who would be president.

Men and women in expensive tuxedos and formal dresses stand around discussing appropriations bills and political action committees, promising favors in return for votes, sharing information on lobbyists and big donors.

Michael and I work the room. He's approached by various representatives who clap him on the back and thank him for his support. He introduces me as someone very important in the workings of his organization and they shower me with as much attention and praise as they do him.

Michael leans into me and delivers a short, whispered lesson on the functions of the American Congress. I listen intently, raising an eyebrow here and there, asking intelligent questions, pretending that Edward didn't once explain the American form of government to me in more detail and with more enthusiasm then one would've ever thought the subject merited – especially while in bed. Yet delivered in _his_ smooth, velvet voice, with his warm hands running up and down my body, it became a tantalizing topic.

Another gift of Edward's - making the dullest topic sound almost religious in its zeal.

"So your Speaker of the House," I jerk my chin towards the man standing a few feet from us, "is the head of the party with the most seats in the House, and while our head of the party is also Prime Minister, your Speaker is merely second in line to the Presidency."

Michael nods proudly at how quickly I've caught on. Edward had laughed at me when we'd had this discussion and I'd made the comparison. He'd called it accurate, though in his words, "the Speaker _wishes_ he was anywhere near Blair."

"Correct," is what Michael responds. "You seem well-informed on our political system."

"I've done some research," I smile wryly, sipping my wine.

Michael and I have had an interesting relationship for the past couple of years. He's not a stupid man. If he were, he wouldn't be the head of a multi-billion dollar corporation with its hands in virtually every area of commerce. I've risen through the ranks in his company, and though I won't deny that it was luck that I caught his eye one day, I've earned every merit and promotion I've ever received. Our relationship is more than platonic, but it's based on a mutual understanding: I respect him as a businessman, I respect his drive and determination, I respect the empire he runs, and I respect his privacy, while he in turn respects my privacy, my brains, my drive, and my dedication to his empire. Occasionally it leads to sex, but I don't belong to him and he doesn't belong to me. At the end of the day, he disappears into his world and what he deems important, and I disappear into mine and what is important to me.

It suits me perfectly.

"Tell me, Michael" - I begin as innocuously as possible, scanning round the room while we're standing by ourselves for a moment. Edward hasn't returned yet since I left him on his knees in the washroom. Irina stands off with a couple of men keeping her company, but her eyes scan the room - searching -

"I wonder if there are as many scandals in your American political system as there are in the British Parliament."

Michael snorts and smiles wryly. "Of course there are."

"And what happens to a congressman or woman who is embroiled in a scandal?" I ask curiously. "Are they forced to give up their seat?"

He shakes his head. "It's very difficult to forcefully unseat a congressman or woman - unless he or she has committed a capital crime. Usually the scandals just die off and are eventually forgotten. We Americans are a very forgiving people," he grins.

I simply nod and take another sip of wine. "But it would probably stop any further political advancement."

"It would depend on the scandal."

Again, I simply nod, thinking quietly to myself, assuring myself. No, Edward would _never_ risk the scandal, I'm sure of that. He'd rather resign quietly than have it ever come out and _taint_ the Cullen Legacy. I _have_ to believe this if I'm going to tell him what I came to tell him.

A few other businessmen and women approach us, and we stand around discussing the latest acquisition Michael has made. He has purchased a prestigious news magazine published here in New York City, with a European edition published in London. The entity has been around for almost a century, but in the past few years, bad editorial decisions as well as extreme diversification have seen to it that profits have plummeted. Now Michael has swooped in and bought it for a record amount and I am completely reworking the entire operation.

As we discuss the plans that Michael and I have for the magazine, a beautiful woman walks past me. She's not as glamorous as Irina; rather she has naturally strawberry blonde hair, is of medium-height, dressed in a sleek yet tasteful black dress that softly accentuates her slim curves without calling too much attention to them. All eyes follow her as she comfortably makes her way round the room, greeting everyone with the dignified air of someone who completely belongs to this club. It's the first time all night that I feel awkward, that I have to physically restrain myself from running out of here.

All of a sudden, Edward is behind her – looking bloody fantastic for a man who just had his penis flattened. He puts his hands on her shoulders and she turns around and smiles up at him while he plants a kiss on either one of her cheeks. A few camera's flash, capturing the moment. They start talking, all smiles, but abruptly he looks up and straight into my eyes, and there's something in them…something that belies the calm, easy expression on his face.

He gives her a hard nod and walks away, heading in our direction, eyes dangerously on me, but he's intersected by Irina, and while I'm not sure what he says to her, her dainty little nostrils flare, and she walks off, strutting as if on a runway.

When he reaches our group, he greets everyone easily, as if he hadn't had his cock almost ripped off just a few minutes ago. I almost admire him.

"We were just discussing the future of ERA magazine," Michael fills him in.

Edward nods, completely interested, as he is in everything his constituents and supporters discuss.

"Yes, it's going to take quite a bit of work to turn that publication around."

"Well, I'm completely confident in Isabella's ability to straighten things out over there," Michael says, flashing me a grin and wink.

"Thank you, Michael, I'm giving it my all," I smile.

"And what exactly, are your plans, Ms. Swan, if you can discuss them, for turning ERA magazine into the voice of the generation it once was?"

"I can certainly discuss some of my plans with you, Congressman Cullen, but I can't give you all of my secrets." I smile sweetly.

His features remain blank, but his eyes flare.

"ERA was once known as the voice of the people, but the last editors focused too heavily on people and events that no longer interested the masses. I plan to change that. I'm bringing in a younger, more in-touch staff that will be better able to meet the needs of this generation, both here and in the London office."

"And do you think that's enough, Ms. Swan? To get rid of the old and bring in the new? To forget what once was? To throw all that away?" He grins pleasantly.

He's challenging me. Michael laughs at Edward's attempt to disconcert me.

"Of course I don't think that's enough, but as I said, I can't share my entire strategy with you, Congressman. There are also significant physical and digital changes the magazine will go through as well as changes to style and content. But overall, I'm confident that focusing on those people and issues that interest our current generation will make the most positive impact. After all, isn't that the major reason why _you_ will probably be the next President of this country?"

His eyes change again; darken. Still, his expression remains cool and collected. That crooked grin lifts up at one corner.

"I think you may be getting us a bit ahead of ourselves, Ms. Swan. I haven't even won the Senate seat yet, much less announced any plans to run for the oval office in the future," he chuckles. "But thank you, for your vote of confidence."

The entire group laughs at his wittiness.

"Now I think that _you_ may be getting a bit ahead of yourself, Congressman. I haven't given you any sort of vote. After all, I'm not American."

Around us, there is more laughter.

We hold each other's gaze.

He chuckles once more, but his all-too-familiar green eyes aren't amused.

The conversation turns to the upcoming senatorial elections. I watch Edward work the group around us. His eyes meet every single ones as he addresses the group, and they all look mesmerized by him – by his words, by the tone of his voice.

Then another congressman interrupts, demanding Edward's attention, and he excuses himself. I can feel the disappointment from everyone around me at the Congressman's departure from our side.

OOOOOOOOOO

Michael is in the washroom, and the group of people I was speaking to have bored me, so I walk off to the bar for another glass of wine.

I feel him behind me.

"What the hell is going on, Bella?" he hisses in my ear, his breath raising the fine hairs at the back of my neck.

I turn around and he's standing there, one hand casually in his trouser pocket, the other holding his own glass of wine, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Congressman, it's so good to see you again. I trust you're feeling well this evening. Nothing in agonizing pain and about to fall off, I hope?" I grin.

He winces almost imperceptibly before swallowing thickly, but his face remains stoic, his eyes full of fire. "What are you doing here? What do you want?" he asks through clenched teeth.

I take a deep breath and let my eyes roam round the room. Though my features are as calm as composed as his, inside I am a riot of nerves. My heart thrums painfully against my ribs. Now would be the perfect time to let him know why I'm here. _Now -_ in the middle of his fundraiser. To kill his hopes amid hundreds of people who've turned out to do the total opposite would be almost poetic in its justice.

But my voice fails me. I remember every second of every minute of every hour we spent together.

I think of _her. _I see _her_ eyes, so much like his.

And I can't.

When my voice finally does return to me, I find myself saying things completely different to those I'd planned. I find hurt little Bella talking instead of the vengeful goddess, Isabella, I'd meant to bring.

"This must be so awkward for you, mustn't it?"

Out of my periphery, I see his brows furrow, but I refuse to meet his gaze. Instead I find myself looking first at the beautiful woman full of grace who belongs here, and second, to the glamorous model who looks as out of place as I feel.

"Having your girlfriend, your ex-wife, and the woman you fucked behind her back all in one room."

Now I do meet his gaze. He glares at me before closing his eyes and exhaling through his nostrils.

"Then again, perhaps you've fucked dozens of women currently in this room – the three of us may not be all that special."

His eyes snap open, inflamed. "Is that really what you think, Bella?"

"She's quite beautiful," I continue, ignoring his question, ignoring the way he says my name, ignoring the hint of hurt in his voice because I know only too well what a good liar he is, "and elegant; even more so than she seems on the telly. What was it that the worldwide media used to call the both of you when you first married?"

He sighs. "Bella-"

"That's right," I nod as if I've just remembered. "Tanya Martin and Edward Cullen: Political royalty. The next Camelot. This generation's JFK and Jackie. A true pity things didn't work out between the both of you."

"Damn it, Bella-"

"But I suppose it worked out in its own way, didn't it? You and she are still on good terms, and now you've got her father's backing; the current President, and when his term is finally up he'll have a puppet through which to continue to run the country."

"You have absolutely no clue, do you?"

"Oh, I think I do, Love. But I suppose this is all just another day in the life of Congressman Cullen, decorated military veteran, future leader of the free world."

His face is inscrutable. "Bella, whatever you think-"

Michael walks up behind Edward and claps him on the shoulder.

"Congressman, I'm glad to find you here. I've just had a great idea and I wanted to discuss it with Isabella, but since you're both here, that's even better."

Edward turns his usual diplomatic and charming grin to Michael. "I'm all ears, Mr. Newton."

Michael nods excitedly. "Well, I was just thinking…Isabella is trying to bring ERA magazine back to where it once was, even beyond that actually with her plans to completely overhaul the way things are done over there and to focus on the people and issues important to the masses today."

"I'm sure she'll do just fine," Edward says encouragingly – though he doesn't look at me as he says it.

"As am I," Michael agrees, "But I have an idea that I believe will give us a great boost in the right direction."

"What is it, Michael?" I ask.

"Make the Congressman your next cover story, and write it yourself."

Edward and I both go completely mute.

"Yeah, think of it," Michael continues, grinning at me from ear to ear. "You want current and now, who is more current and now than Congressman Cullen?"

My stomach churns. I'm here to destroy Edward, not to make him my next cover.

"Michael, I don't think that's such a good idea."

Michael furrows his brow quizzically. He doesn't like being told no. "Why not?"

I think quickly. "For one, the magazine already has the next three issues planned out."

"So bump one of the stories to a later issue."

"For another, I'm sure the Congressman is too busy with his campaign to give us a week of his time to work on the story."

I look up at Edward's blank face, expecting him to apologize to Michael and tell him that as much as he'd love to, he has too much on his plate right now to be the focus of a week-long study into his life in order to be the magazine's cover story.

"I would actually be honored to be interviewed for the cover story by Ms. Swan. Besides, I've always greatly admired ERA magazine."

Not to mention that the free publicity he would receive would be unimaginable.

No. This is the opposite of what I came here to do.

I start shaking my head. "Michael, as I said, the magazine has already planned out the next few cover stories."

Michael clears his throat. He walks over to me and carefully wraps an arm around my waist.

"Congressman, can you please excuse Isabella and me for a couple of minutes?"

"Of course," Edward agrees easily, while Michael leads me a few feet away.

"Isabella, what's the problem?"

"There's no problem, Michael," I assure him. "It would just be impossible to do a cover on the Congressman right now-"

Michael cuts me off. "Isabella, I run everything. If I say a story is getting pushed back, then it gets pushed back. I'm surprised. I would've thought you would've jumped at this. How long have you been telling me that you want to write? Here's your opportunity!"

"I would have to get up to speed on the American Political system, and right now, I don't have time to-"

"You picked up what I was explaining to you well enough before, and I trust in your ability to pick up anything else you need to. Besides, Isabella, you and I both know that the major focus of this piece won't be making sure you've got your policies right; it'll be Cullen himself! The world adores him, and if we can get a piece on him, that will work wonders in bringing ERA's reputation back to what it once was, and even more!"

What can I say? Absolutely nothing, because everything he says is right. This piece would be a huge boost to the magazine.

"Isabella," he says in a low tone. He wraps both arms around my waist and moves in closer, his mouth against my neck.

My eyes fall on Edward. He's watching us, jaw completely squared, face impassive, but his eyes…

"Isabella," Michael whispers seductively, "Do this, and do it right, and I'll make you managing editor of ERA's London office."

I suck in a sharp breath.

"Yes," Michael coos, his nose skimming the side of my face, "I know that's what you really want. Do you really think I haven't noticed?"

Again, there is nothing I can say, because he's completely correct. I don't want this world of mergers and acquisitions. I want to write. I've _always_ wanted to write. And after all this business is done with, I want to go home to London; to my family.

Besides, a new plan is forming in my head.

I nod in answer. Michael chuckles into my neck. Edward is still standing by the bar, sipping his wine slowly; watching us.

"Good girl," Michael says before planting a kiss on my neck and straightening up. "Let's go tell the congressman."

I nod, and Michael, arm round my waist, leads me back to where Edward is standing, his eyes now firmly on his wineglass.

"Congressman," I smile, "I'd be honored if you let me write a piece on you for the cover of our magazine."

He should be terrified. He should be quaking in his boots at the thought of my writing a cover story on him. Instead, he stands there grinning, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. He believes himself untouchable.

"Very good, Ms. Swan. I'll contact you tomorrow morning so that you and I can further discuss-"

"I'll be leaving for London tomorrow, but I expect to be back early next week. I'll have my assistant contact yours and they can work out a schedule suitable to the both of us."

Something flashes in his eyes again, but it's gone quickly. "Very well, Ms. Swan."

He nods and reaches out to shake my hand. When my hand touches his, I have to fight to repress any display of the fire burning throughout my body.

His own expression remains as serene as ever.

"I look forward to working with you, Ms. Swan."

"As do I, Congressman. As do I."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**The next chapter will take us back to the past.**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' on profile page.**


	4. Chapter 4 - East End to West End

**A/N: Again, thanks so much for your wonderful reviews. I really enjoy reading them. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to get back to too many of them this last chapter, but I'll try to do better for the next. :)**

**The lovely 'Cared' has created a _beautiful_ banner for this story. It's on my profile page, and a smaller version is the official image for this story. Please check them out!**

****PLEASE READ****

**I have something **VERY IMPORTANT** to clear up. Edward was NOT married when he met Bella. I debated whether I should clear this up, but this misunderstanding does so greatly affect the story that I figured I should. I take full responsibility for any misunderstanding, but Bella did NOT say that Edward was married when they were together, rather that Tanya eventually became his ex-wife. Now from what she goes on to say it's obvious there was SOMETHING going on between Tanya and Edward when she met him, (and we'll find out exactly what soon) but they weren't already married.**

**Another FAQ section at the end of this chapter.**

**Okay, with all that out of the way, here we go:**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes is my beta and personal cheerleader.**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - East End to West End**

**Then:**

We walk half of London that night. The park narrows into small, private streets which widen past Queen Mary University. We stroll through Whitechapel – and I inform Sergeant Green Eyes, or rather, Edward, that this is the area where Jack the Ripper committed his murders. He doesn't appear very impressed, taking it all in quietly, his expression serene and calm while my own voice shakes around every syllable I utter. But if the way he keeps my hand tightly laced with his is any indication of his state of mind, then he's not as calm as he appears.

"Tell me about your family," he asks.

"My mum and little sister live just outside of London, in a small town by the Thames estuary, where the river and the sea meet."

"Sounds nice. Is that where you grew up?" he asks with a sideways glance and soft smile.

I nod. "It's a different sort of life over there; I suppose quieter. You have to take the rail, but when you get there, it's like you're somewhere completely different. I moved to London proper a few months ago to attend university, to keep a promise I made my dad. He passed away a few years ago."

He stops and faces me, eyes suddenly solemn. "I'm sorry about that."

I shrug. "Like I said, he was a copper; got into a scuffle with a bugger with a gun. It's been a while. My mum took it hard at first. She missed him very much. I helped her out with my little sister, Al, for a while. But Mum's much better, and we've moved on."

Really, there's so much more I can say on the subject, but for now, I leave it at that.

"My mom died when I was ten. She had cancer," he blurts. His eyes are abruptly full of so much pain that I know that as much as it hurt to lose my dad, somehow, Edward losing his mom was even worse.

Instinctively, one of my hands reaches up and cups his cheek. It's smooth and rough at the same time. My fingers tingle.

"I'm so sorry," I say quietly.

He reaches his own hand up and wraps it around mine. "She was…a good person."

"And your dad?" I ask.

Something flashes in his eyes. He snorts. "My father moved on too - though a lot quicker than I'm sure your mom did."

I simply nod, because I don't really know what to say to that.

He sighs deeply, fills his lungs, and then with a crooked grin leans down and kisses me, sucking my top lip between his, so I take his cue and suck his bottom one between my own. His lips are supple and warm. His tongue just barely grazes my lips, and when I meet it with mine, they simply touch and retreat, teasing, promising more…soon. The rain has stopped and the cool, night air blows at my hair, but I'm warmed by excitement and expectation.

When he pulls away from me, I'm dazed and breathless. He grins, obviously enjoying my reaction, the uninhibited way I seem to respond to him, before tugging on my hand and resuming our walk.

Our random directions have led us to Tower Bridge, its bright blue suspensions a sharp contrast to the two Victorian gothic towers it connects. The entire bridge glows with bright lights while below and around it, the usually green waters of the River Thames look black and sparkling. Edward leads me towards the bridge, and I follow. I follow, as I've done all night with him.

We take the pedestrian walkway, crossing under the majestic arches, and then about a third of the way over, Edward stops once again. He leads me towards the concrete railing, where I turn and look out over the city. Ancient and new London mix and intertwine: centuries-old concrete and new glass structures. I lean against the railing, my forearms over the top while the breeze whips my hair all about me, and I gaze down at the Tower of London right at the edge of the river, the old palace where kings and queens and peasants alike all lost heads. Edward embraces me from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as we both look out. I feel the length of his body pressed into mine, and it's soft and hard and sweetly warm and maddeningly erotic all at once.

"King Henry the Eighth had two of his wives beheaded at the Tower of London," I say, just to clear my mind of him and the way he absolutely engulfs me. But it's useless.

What's worse, I think he knows what I'm trying to do. His face presses into my neck, and he chuckles.

"Your country has had some interesting leaders."

His breath tickles my neck as he speaks. I force my eyes to remain open and my legs to remain upright.

His hold on me tightens. "Are you alright?"

"A bit overwhelmed honestly."

Another chuckle. I roll my eyes.

"Have you been to the Tower, then?" I query.

He nods. "My father and I had a private tour a few years back."

My brows lift. Again, his voice changes when he mentions his father; loses its smoothness somehow.

I turn myself in his arms and then question the sanity of that action because now the heat multiplies. I'm locked in the emerald of his eyes. His breath caresses my face. His chest is so close to mine, I can almost feel his heart beating. Or perhaps that's just how hard mine is beating. I rest my hands on his firm abs. From the way he grins, I can tell he likes it.

"How did you manage a private tour of the Tower of London?"

He smirks. "My father is a U.S. Congressman. He has friends in Parliament."

"What, did Blair himself give you the tour?" I snort.

He continues smirking.

"Bloody hell, he did!"

"He wasn't prime minister yet, and it wasn't just my father and I," he explains quickly, pushing my hair round my shoulder because the wind is really kicking it up. "It was a few members of the House of Representatives, as well as a few members of Parliament - a political outing."

"So your dad is a politician, then?"

He nods. "And his dad before him, and his dad before him, etcetera, etcetera. It's the Cullen Legacy."

"The Cullen Legacy? So you're a politician too?"

"Not yet."

"But you will be."

Again, he nods. "My tour of duty will be over in six months. Then I return to New York and attend law school, take the Bar, practice law for a year or so, then my dad will retire, and I'll run for his seat in Congress and then…"

"And then…?" I prompt with a grin, because his plans amuse me. He's quite confident of them, and they are so bloody exact. I can barely decide what color knickers to wear from one day to the next – and some days whether to wear them at all.

"And then...we'll see," he answers, much more vaguely than before. He reaches out and wraps a few strands of my hair round his finger, watching his own actions as he twirls the hair round and round.

"Your hair is so soft," he murmurs, eyes meeting mine while his fingers keep playing with my hair. "So what are your plans?"

"What, beyond tonight?"

Once more, he chuckles. "Yes, beyond tonight."

I bite my lip while his eyes hold me, refusing to let me go. "I'm afraid my plans for my life are nowhere near as exact as yours. I'm a Journalism major. I enjoy writing. Beyond that, I have no idea."

"Do you plan on getting married someday?"

"Someday, I suppose. I'd like to have a couple of kids eventually, I guess. And you?"

For a moment, there's something strange about his expression, but then he simply nods solemnly. "Someday."

Then he grins, that crooked grin that makes my insides coil tightly. His fingers leave my hair but then appear at my mouth, where one finger begins to softly trace my lips. I sigh unevenly, confused, exhilarated and frightened all at once.

"A Journalism major, then?"

He says the word 'Journalism' in what I can only assume is supposed to be my accent, his tone teasing. I simply nod.

"Well, I'm sure you'll figure out what you want to do. You seem like the type who always pulls ahead."

He drops his finger and returns both hands round my waist, gazing at me.

"How long are you in London?" I ask.

"Only through the weekend. We arrived yesterday, but have to head back Sunday afternoon."

Pain lances through me, shocking me in its acuteness. It makes no sense that this hurts, that I already miss him when I've only known him for a few hours and will only know him for a few hours more.

The entire time, he watches me carefully. It's as if those green eyes can see right through me, can read my every thought, my every fear.

I break our gaze and look down, afraid to let him see too much, startled that there's already so much to see.

"Hey," he says softly, but I don't look up at him.

"Hey," he repeats, and then I feel his fingers under my chin. He lifts my head and forces my eyes back to his.

"We'll figure it out, okay? We'll figure _everything_ out."

And despite how simply bonkers all this is, I nod, because though his features remain as calm and serene as ever, his eyes burn with intensity, with truth and I _want_ to believe. I _want_ to figure out whatever there is to figure out with him.

He cups my face between his hands and kisses me again, but this time his tongue does find its way inside my mouth. I suck on it desperately. He's panting just as hard as I am when we end the kiss.

"Come on," he instructs, lacing his hand around mine.

Of course, I follow.

OOOOOOOOOO

We continue our seemingly random walk through the city, even though it's about three in the morning. It's probably not the safest thing to stroll from the East End to the West End of London at this time of night, but I feel quite safe next to Edward. For one, though he's lean its clear to see that he's also well-built. U.S. Special Forces he says. Though I'm no expert, I'm quite sure they don't accept weaklings in the U.S. Special Forces.

Besides, he absolutely radiates strength and authority – I don't think any bugger would be stupid enough to come near us.

Edward asks me more about my family. I tell him that my mum is a primary school teacher; that my little sister, Al, is twelve years old and in secondary school; that she's my absolute favorite person in the world, and that she worships me, which I find quite enjoyable. I tell him random stories of our life. I tell him about Rose, how she's been my best friend since we were six. And that she and Leah and I are flat mates and attend university together.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I finally ask, after I've exhausted my stories.

He shakes his head. "No, but my cousin Jasper and I are pretty close. His mom, my Aunt Esme, has been more or less a surrogate mom to me since my mother passed. And one of the guys back at the bar, Em, we've become good buddies."

"How long have you been in the service?"

"Over two years. I joined out of college. My father wasn't very happy about it – it messed with his long range plans a bit. My Aunt Esme did her best to smooth things over, but…he's come to see how my time in the service will serve a purpose in the long run."

"Serve a purpose?"

"It'll look good on my record once I run for office."

"Oh."

I'm not sure what that means, exactly. His eyes remain trained straight ahead.

"You're in Iraq, then?"

He shakes his head. "Afghanistan."

"Oh. How old are you, Edward?"

This time he crooks his head to the side to look at me. "I'm twenty-four," he grins, "and you, Bella? How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen…but I'll be twenty in a couple of months," I add quickly.

"Nineteen almost twenty," he nods, still grinning.

"Is that okay?"

"That's perfect."

OOOOOOOOOO

The streets are mostly deserted until we arrive at Piccadilly Circus, where a few tourists still roam the area, taking pictures of the large electronic billboards, of the fountain with its glowing lights and its statue of Eros, the god of love.

We stand by the fountain and kiss again. My lips feel swollen - but in a wonderful way – from how much they've been kissed tonight. I'm quite sure I haven't been kissed this much in my entire life. He holds me close; his arms wrapped round my hips, hands resting on my lower back while my arms wrap round his neck, and I strain on my tip toes to reach him. It's quite late though, and I'm absolutely knackered from being on my legs for hours, so when I start wobbling Edward picks me up and holds me flush against him. I can feel every part of him, even through our clothes and jackets, and I feel the hardness between his legs pressing against me. It makes me squirm against him.

We pull away and gaze at each other, wordlessly knowing that the sun will be out in a few short hours and a decision must be made.

Just then, my mobile vibrates in my jacket pocket. Edward sets me down, and when I pull out the phone I see that it's Rose, and I grimace.

"Bloody hell, it's Rose," I mutter. "I forgot to ring to tell her I'd be out late. She's going to have my head."

"You go ahead and take it," Edward nods, pulling out his own mobile. "I've got a couple of quick calls to make too."

"Bloody hell, Bella!" Rosalie yells when I pick up the call. "I fell asleep in front of the telly and when I woke up it was almost four in the morning, and you weren't home yet! I nearly had a heart attack!"

I cringe, feeling guilty and embarrassed all at once for having been so entertained with Edward that I didn't even think of calling.

"I'm sorry, Rose. I…met up with a friend, and we've been walking round, and I guess I forgot to give you a ring to let you know I'd be back later than I'd planned."

My eyes flash to Edward. He's watching me curiously, his mouth moving quietly around his own call.

"A friend? What friend have you been walking round with for nearly four hours?"

"I…I met him at the pub earlier."

Silence. I close my eyes and wait.

"At the pub? Who in the world did you…" she trails off. "Wait a minute, do you mean one of the American blokes?"

"Yeah."

"Bleeding…" – and here comes the eruption – "Bella, are you out of your mind? You get your arse home right now!"

"Rose, I'm okay. I'll be home soon."

"Never mind soon, Isabella! You need to come home right now! You said yourself that those bloody wankers were soldiers on leave. Effin' ell, do you know what soldiers on leave are like? He's probably on the pull and thinking you're up for it!"

"Alright, alright, Rose," I try to calm her. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm on my way. I just have to tell-"

A hand suddenly covers my mobile. I look up into Edward's eyes.

"Can I talk with you for a minute?"

I nod. "Rose, just hold on for a sec, yeah?"

"Bella!"

I pull the phone away from my ear, holding it pressed against my stomach.

Edward cups my cheek in one hand, gazing down at me intensely. "_Bella…_" – he says my name once more in that way he has, that worshipping, pleading way.

I wait, seemingly patient though inside I'm a torrent of nerves and excitement.

"Bella," he starts again, "I don't want you to go home."

I furrow my brows, because he can't honestly expect me to walk London town 'til sun up.

"Edward-"

"I've booked us a room."

My heart stops. I stand there, staring at him, my mobile still pressed tightly against me.

This time he wraps both hands around my face, holding me firmly, locking me with those green eyes.

"Before you say no, I want you to know that it's not what you think. I know you're tired, and so am I. I just want to rest with you." He kisses me softly, and I close my eyes because I can't think; I can't focus; I can't reason when his mouth is on mine. When he pulls away, his eyes are as intense as ever. I wonder fleetingly if anyone has ever said no to this man.

"I can't let you go yet, Bella, not when we only have a day and half left. And I swear," he breathes empathically, his eyes boring so deep into mine it's as if I'm swimming in them, "nothing has to happen. I just want to rest with you," he repeats. "Rest, and then wake up, and talk and…whatever _you_ want Bella. That's all I want - whatever _you_ want."

But the problem is that I have no idea _what_ I want right now.

Regardless, I know from the second he poses the offer that I'm going to agree to it. If anyone has ever said no to him, then I have no idea how she or he managed it.

With our gazes still locked on one another, I put the phone back to my ear.

"Rose?"

"Yes, Bella."

"Rose, I'm quite fine, but I won't be home tonight."

"_Pardon?"_

"Or tomorrow," Edward mouths.

"Or tomorrow," I repeat.

"Bella, what's going on?"

"I'm staying with Edward for the next couple of days."

"Edward? Right, now who the bloody hell is Edward, Bella, and what about work?" she screeches.

I grimace. I'd forgotten about the pub. "Tell Jake that I went home to visit me mum; that it was a last minute emergency, yeah?"

"Bella, this is ridiculous. What if this Edward turns out to be a serial killer or something?! At least tell me where you're staying!"

I don't know exactly where, but even if I did, I wouldn't tell her. This is mine. Mine and Edward's only.

"He's not a serial killer. And I'll be here in London. Look, I'll call you, yeah? Every few hours to let you know I'm okay."

"Bella what are you doing? This isn't like you," she moans, but I can tell she's pretty much giving up.

"I know it's not. But I'm fine. I promise you."

She's quiet for a long while. Then I hear a heavy sigh.

"Bella, please be careful. And _call me_, yeah? Or I'll have the bobbies out looking for you."

"I'll call you."

When I put my mobile away, Edward takes my hand, and lacing our fingers together tightly, leads me away.

OOOOOOOOOO

The hotel he takes me to is in Westminster, about a minute's walk from the lush St. James Park, at which point we cross over a small bridge. The opulent courtyard is lined with bare trees, twinkling with white lights, the red brick building is shaped like a semi-circle, and we pass under an archway guarded by concrete lions over classic white pedestals. When we enter, the floors are white marble, and the ceiling is full of glittering chandeliers. Circular, white pedestal staircases wind round the lobby.

I'm more than a little awed – and relieved that he didn't bring me to one of the dodgier establishments in the West End, like one would a right old whore.

Edward leads me to a plush sofa in front of a large, black marble fireplace.

"Wait here while I check us in," he smiles.

"Will they let you check in at this time?"

"I called already and let them know we'd be here in a few minutes, so there should be no problem."

I look round my surroundings warily. "I don't have any luggage."

He chuckles. "Neither do I. That's okay."

I watch him as he walks to the concierge, his strut confident and so damned sexy. He talks to a woman in a white shirt and black vest. His back is to me, but I can see that _she's_ all smiles as she conducts her business with him, batting her lashes and giggling loudly. He's grinning when he turns and starts walking my way again. I breathe out through narrowed lips.

"What are you doing here, Bella?" I ask myself quietly.

But when he puts his hand out and waits for mine, when those green eyes meet mine again, all doubts fade away.

"Everything is set. Are you ready?"

I nod, smiling in return.

Our room is on the twelfth floor, and as we wind through the carpeted hallway, my heart beats wildly while Edward looks as serene and as composed as ever next to me. When we get to our room, he sticks the card in; the light turns green and he turns the lever.

I flip the light switch on as I walk in, and I'm already shocked by the size of the room before me. It's bigger than the flat I share with Leah and Rose, and I haven't even seen all of it. A sitting room with a large, plush sofa is directly in front of me, with a flat screen telly on the wall opposite it. Beyond that is a wooden bar area built into a wall, and beyond the bar is a table. In between the table and the sitting area is the opening to another room. I walk slowly and turn into it.

The bedroom.

I don't flip the switch on in here, but the light from the sitting area streams in enough so that I see the king-sized bed, with checkered black and white canopied curtains surrounding it. The matching sheets, along with the white, goose down comforter, are already turned down – a small, wrapped piece of candy rests on each pillow.

My heart startles in my chest, and my breath hitches. Then I feel him behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

"The bathroom looks like it's through there," he murmurs, warm breath tickling my neck. "Do you want a bath first, or to get straight to bed?"

"Straight to bed," I whisper. "I mean to sleep. Straight to sleep. I'm absolutely knackered. I want to sleep."

He chuckles softly and kisses my neck. Shivers run throughout my body.

"Relax, Bella. I told you, I just want to rest with you. We'll figure everything else out in the morning."

I nod and draw in a deep breath, feeling my shoulders slacken. My hands, which had been in anxious fists at my sides, loosen.

With his hands still on my shoulders, Edward turns me to face him. He's removed his jacket, and he stands before me in his t-shirt and denims, which dried hours ago. In the dim light, I see his eyes firmly on mine as he removes my jacket and chucks it across the room. Out of the corner of my eye I see it land on a chair. Then he places his hands on my shoulders once more. For the first time since I met him a few hours ago, the jacket is no longer in the way, and I feel the searing heat of his palms burn through my own t-shirt. I breathe unsteadily, watching him watch me. His hands trail higher, ghosting over my collarbone, fingertips against my neck before they reach my face. Slowly he cradles my face and brings his mouth down to mine, his kiss soft and sensual. No tongue this time, but his lips taste mine and suck urgently. I'm lost in it, in his kiss, in his touch, especially now that we're completely alone, with the noise of the city only vaguely seeping through the walls. I put my hands on his hands and kiss him and kiss him, quietly moaning against his sweet mouth, only slightly embarrassed that I can't seem to be quiet when he is as silent as a mouse. Then his hands drop, and I feel them at the hem of my shirt.

I suck in a sharp breath.

"Shh," he calms me, mouth still on mine. "We _are_ going to sleep, but do you sleep fully clothed, Bella?"

I shake my head.

"Neither do I."

My chest heaves as he raises my shirt. He only breaks our kiss momentarily to pull it over my head. Then he guides my quivering hands to the hem of his shirt, and I mimic his actions, our mouths still moving together.

He undoes my denims and guides them half way down my thighs, letting them drop the rest of the way. I do the same to his. His hands rest lightly on my waist. My stomach contracts the same way his does when I carefully place my hands on his stomach. All the while, our mouths give and take.

When he picks me up and carries me to the large, soft bed, I'm ready for anything. I'll _give_ him anything.

Though I've only known Edward for a few hours, I'm beginning to trust him with my life. I'm here, so it must be true.

He places me in the middle of the bed and lifts the blankets over me, tucking me in carefully. Then he flips me over on my side. I feel him move away and a couple of seconds later the lights in the sitting area go off. Two seconds more and I feel the covers lift once again and then he's behind me, holding me. His hands lace with mine over my stomach, his mouth rests just under the back of my shoulder, showering it with soft, feather kisses. It makes me arch my back and suddenly I feel _all_ of him – hard and harder.

"Go to sleep, sweet Bella," he breathes against my shoulder. "When the sun comes out we'll work it all out."

Work out what, exactly?

"Okay," I agree, and nestle myself against his taut body, fully aware of his erection, willing to give him anything and everything – and trying to figure out a way to tell him this.

But before I even know it, I'm fast asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**FAQs:**

**Q: Will the rest of the usual gang join the story?**

**A: Yes, most of them will, and soon.**

**Q: If Bella is only 26, how did she rise to the top of the M. Newton's Corporation so quickly?  
**

**A: She's a smart woman, and she admits to also have been lucky to have caught Mike's eye. Besides, how many billionaires and successful people in their early, mid and late twenties do we have in this world. (Not that Bella is a billionaire, but she is successful).**

**Q: Will Bella continue speaking cockney?**

**A: LOL. Some of you like this; some of you not so much. But this is who she is, especially in the "Past" chapters. She's older now, and we all know that once we get older, get a real job, real responsibilities, we sometimes change the way we dress, we speak, etc. So...yeah...that's my answer.**

**Q: Does this story have an HEA?**

**A: For the answer to that, you'll have to go my profile page.**

**Q: Will there be much angst?**

**A: Again, you'll have to go to my profile page.**

**Okay, I think that's most of the FAQs for now. If you've got other questions, definitely let me know. My son has predicted that the zombie apocalypse will now not occur until the end of this summer, so we should be able to finish this story by then. :)**

**Cheers! And let me know your thoughts!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**

**And...**

****This message is only for '**_**dazzledforeverbyEdward': **_**I'm not responding to dispute your thoughts on the story; they're your thoughts and you're certainly entitled to them. I'm **_**only**_** responding to you to let you know that I DID NOT delete the anonymous OR signed reviews YOU or anyone else have left. Please don't accuse me of having done so. Perhaps you should take a closer look because they're definitely still there. I would've told you this in a PM, but it seems that you have that feature disabled, which makes it kind of hard to have a two-way convo.****


	5. Chapter 5 - Going Home

**A/N: Back to the present...**

**Beta'd by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Going Home**

**Now:**

It's mid-morning on a hot day in New York City. I've gone into the ERA office building in midtown for a couple of hours this morning to settle some items and leave instructions with my assistant, Angela, as well as with Ben Cheney, my second in charge there, and the rest of the staff for while I'm in London. We go over the upcoming piece we'll now be doing on the Congressman and decide what to push back to accommodate him, and I put Austin Marks, our top photographer, on alert.

They're all getting used to my schedule. I've worked my ass off straightening out ERA these past couple of months; ten, twelve, fourteen hour work days. I barely spend any time at all in the high-rise flat Michael gave me in one of his mid-town buildings. It's not like I can sleep anyway, when I'm so far from home. Other than to catch occasional hours of slumber or to have a quick go with Michael to relieve some stress, the flat is useless space.

My staff works just as hard as I do. I let them know from the beginning that these first few months would be hectic, and they know that I demand the best from them – whether I'm here or in London.

I try to go home every other week. Michael has been good about it, I must admit – but then again, he usually lets me do things my way, rarely puts his foot down with me – unlike the way he did with this upcoming piece on Edward. Michael knows my work ethic, and he knows that things _will_ get done no matter which office I'm using. Besides, the London office needs my attention too – and if things work out, this is where I will set up permanently as managing editor of ERA London. Someone else can have the prestige in New York. Probably Ben, he seems to be up for it from what I've seen.

The black Bentley Michael has assigned for my use weaves through traffic, its driver guides us out of the city and into Brooklyn. Here we enter the Belt Parkway, which winds round the narrow Hudson River and reminds me of the River Thames and the way it winds round my home. I'll be there soon – just a few hours.

I'm lost in thoughts about home when my mobile vibrates. I pull it out and find a text from the _Congressman._

**Ms. Swan, please call me at your earliest convenience to discuss the piece for ERA. You may call my private number: 646-555-0534.**

I snort and glare out the window – wondering how badly he's panicking.

Fifteen minutes later, as we take the ramp off of the Long Island Expressway towards JFK Airport, my mobile vibrates once more.

**Ms. Swan, your secretary told me that you're on your way to the airport, but I think it would be beneficial to the both of us if we spoke before you left.**

He's good.

His texts are vague enough to mean anything. I wonder how often he and one of his conquests have traded deliberately vague texts.

I smirk and drop my phone back into my bag. I'm not playing this game with him.

While I'm checking in, the phone vibrates yet again.

**Ms. Swan, I believe we have a lot to discuss. Please call me.**

He's desperate. In the light of day, he may not be feeling quite as invincible any longer. My threats to him from last evening must be sinking in and he's feeling his perfect political world fade away.

A wry grin lifts up one corner of my mouth as I walk through customs and place the phone on the waiting tray, but though my mouth grins, I feel cold and empty inside. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be between him and me. An image hits me of he and I back in that hotel room…the way he held me…the way his green eyes took me in…

But life is what it is, and I won't cloud my day with thoughts of him and his lies. I'm going home, where I have better things to occupy my time and mind with.

As I sit by the gate and wait for Virgin flight 625 to be ready, I pull out my mobile.

**Congressman Cullen, as I indicated last evening, I will have my assistant contact your assistant to set up all logistics regarding the piece for ERA. This will occur at MY earliest convenience, Congressman, and not a second earlier. Have a pleasant week.**

Then, I call first my mum and then Rose to make sure that everything is alright and let them know I'll be home in a few hours, and I shut off my phone.

OOOOOOOOOO

London is bleak and grey when I arrive – opaque clouds cover an ink-like sky that threatens blessed rain. I draw in a deep breath as the chauffeur waiting for me in Heathrow takes my bag and leads the way outside. New York City's summer is almost unbearably hot, and by contrast the coolness of the air here soothes my frazzled and tired nerves.

I wonder how she is – if she's changed at all in the past week.

I'm a coiled up bundle of anxiety as the car makes its way out of the city and into Essex, the familiar Thames following us through our path. Mile by mile, we leave the crowded city behind until the space between flats grows larger, and pretty backyards with roses and tulips spring about. The coast winds into a picturesque small town full of sandy beaches bordered by restaurants, pubs and shops. And spreading out from the town center of Leigh-on-Sea are the homes – my home. My _real_ home; not the one I keep in London or New York.

My _real_ life.

I use my key, because it's late, but when I step in my mum has been waiting up for me, a grin on her face and a glass of wine in each hand.

I grin back, happy to see her, and gladly step into her outstretched arms.

"Oh, Love," she chuckles, "you're home. Give us a hug, then."

I hug her tight yet hastily and step back.

"How is she?"

"She's just fine, Love," my mum smiles. "Alice went to bed about an hour ago. You know she can't stay up too late, that one."

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, both relieved that she's well, yet disappointed that I won't be able to see her smiles 'til morning. And now that I know that everything's good, I study my mum.

She looks tired yet happy, her blue eyes twinkling, and her long brown hair quite a mess round her. But my mum has always had a jovial disposition, except when my dad died. Then, she was quite depressed, and I took over for a while, taking care of both her and Alice. Nevertheless, she has a way of finding the bright side to everything. I believe her fondness for wine has something to do with her usual, giddy self. No, she's no drunk, but Alice and I tend to keep an eye on her.

"How've you been, mum?"

"I've been good. Busy," she chuckles. "She's a ball of energy, that one, she is."

I smile, my heart swelling with joy.

"And you, Darling?" mum asks. "Did you see him, then?"

Another thing about my mum: she doesn't beat about the bush – about anything.

I sigh and put my bag down, taking a sip from the proffered wine glass before setting it down on the side table.

"Yes, Mum, I saw him."

"And did you tell him?"

My gaze shifts to the picture behind her, of the smiling, happy child celebrating her sixth birthday.

"No, Mum, I didn't tell him."

"You've given up the idea, is it? I'm glad to hear it."

I sigh deeply. "No, Mum, I haven't given up the idea. It was just a bit more…complicated than I thought it would be."

She moves closer and cups my cheek. "Bella, love, if you're going to tell him, don't turn it into a horror show, for God's sakes!" She chuckles, her words only slightly slurred. I vaguely wonder how many glasses of wine she's had while waiting up for me. I'm quite glad that Alice is here, and Rose so close by.

"I'm _not_ turning it into a horror show, Mum, that's simply how he'll see it."

"How do you know that?" she asks, grinning widely. "I don't see how anyone could ever not want-"

"Mum, you don't know him. I do. And I don't want to talk about this right now. I want to go see her."

My mum watches me knowingly for a few seconds, and then chuckles once again. "Well go ahead, then, let's have a look at her."

With my heart racing in my chest, I shoot up the stairs of the house I grew up in. I wanted to buy my mum something bigger when Michael started paying me more than I knew what to do with, but she insists that this is where she and dad married, this is where she'll die. Sort of morbid, but I suppose I understand that sort of devotion – even if the one to whom _I_ was once devoted turned out to be an arsehole. I can only assume that it's different when that devotion goes both ways.

But I banish those thoughts as I turn the knob to the door of my old bedroom, now decorated in pinks and purples with large wallpaper stickers of princesses and castles and swans…

There's a soft nightlight on - because I've been told she doesn't like the lights off when I'm not home. As soon as I see her though, everything else fades away. Nothing else in the world matters. No problem is insurmountable – nothing that bad could've _ever_ happened, not if I have her.

Elizabeth.

My six-year old daughter.

Edward's and my daughter.

I sit carefully on the edge of her bed and take in her soft features. Peace and pride and wonder and so much I can't even describe fill me to my core until it brims over and splays out the way her long, copper hair splays against her pillow. Even in slumber, she's a mirror-image of her father – though her beauty is feminine and young and so innocent. She smiles in her sleep, dreaming happy dreams, I pray; blissfully unaware that her father has no idea that she exists, or that he would consider her a liability if he did know of her; unaware that she will only ever have one parent to love and care for and protect her.

"Ellie," I murmur quietly, her name a whisper on my lips, said in a tone that reminds me of the way her father once used to say my name – like a prayer, full of worship.

But unlike that lie, _this_ is real. _My_ overwhelming love for her is real.

Despite my efforts to be quiet and still and let her rest, her eyes suddenly flutter open, and I gasp unevenly, lost in her emerald eyes. Up until yesterday it had been seven years since I'd last seen Edward, and though I have a reminder of him in my life every day, I hadn't realized until this moment how identical their eyes are; the color, the shape, the way they sparkle.

Elizabeth London Swan.

"Mummy, you're home!" she exclaims, sitting up in one go and throwing her small arms round me. I'm engulfed by all-consuming love and warmth.

"Yes, Ellie, my little love," I whisper shakily against her hair, holding her tightly to me. "Mummy's home."

OOOOOOOOOO

I wake early the next morning wrapped around my daughter in the double-bed we share. By the sounds of her soft breathing, she's still fast asleep, and I'm grateful because she's growing so quickly and needs her rest – but at the same time, I can't wait until she awakens so we can talk and spend time together and I can gaze into those beautiful, sweet eyes of hers.

Not wanting to let go of this quiet, special moment that's become so rare these past couple of months, I simply lie there for about a half-hour, just holding her while she sleeps, her soft, warm little frame cradled in my arms, her long hair tickling my forehead and nose. My heart aches with bittersweet emotions. After a while, I place a tender kiss over her hair and rise up carefully to get ready for work.

When I get downstairs, Mum and Alice are already round the table; Alice ready for university and Mum ready for her day. I smile when I see that though the morning is busy, they've bothered to prepare a full breakfast including baked beans, mushrooms, eggs and bacon. They love to cook, these two.

"We know how much you miss it," my mum chuckles when she sees me eyeing the table.

Al sprints up and gives me a warm hug while Mum goes to the stove and pours me a cup of tea.

"How was your week, Bella?"

I grin at my little sister. She's petite, shorter than my five foot two frame by a couple of inches. Her hair is a darker shade than mine, and she keeps it quite short, pixie-like with a long fringe that suits her beautifully. Her skin is paler than mine, but she's got our mother's blue eyes; whereas I have our dad's brown ones.

"It was…interesting, Al." I smirk, trying to keep it short and simple in front of mum.

Mum sets my tea in front of the seat I've taken at the table; dad's old seat. They've always reserved it for me.

Alice sits back down and Mum hands me a dish, so I can serve myself from the pickings on the table.

"Mum says you saw him, then?"

So much for short and simple. I nod as I spoon baked beans onto my dish.

"How does he look? Is he as bloody handsome as he looks on the telly and in the papers?"

I roll my eyes and stuff a bit of mushrooms in my mouth.

Mum chuckles once more. "Darling," she says, looking over at Alice, "you forget your sister had quite a go with the man a few years back, do you? The proof of it is sleeping soundly up there in her room! She knows quite well how handsome the man is!"

And that is Renee Swan - quite blunt in everything. Even seven years ago, when the ramifications of that weekend were first coming to light, Mum took it all so calmly. I think since losing my dad, nothing's really shocked her anymore.

Alice laughs heartily.

"Never mind that. I rang yesterday after Ellie's football game, but you guys must've still been out. How did her team do?"

Alice's blue eyes sparkle with pride. "They won the game. Ellie scored the winning goal!"

"Yes!" I do a fist pump in the air. We take our football pretty seriously here in the U.K. "She must've been quite thrilled with herself!"

"You know how your daughter is," mom titters with no little mirth. "Quite intense, that one. When she sets her mind to a goal, no one's going to take it away from her. You and Alice were always so passively content when you were younger and played football. I wonder from where Ellie gets her competitive ambition?" she questions innocently, smiling while she sips her tea.

I purse my lips as I get up and gather my dish and utensils. "Right, well I'm off to London. I'll be home as early as possible.

"Leave that, darling," my mum laughs at me. "I'll take care of it. Go spend a few minutes with your daughter before you've got to be off."

"Thanks, Mum," I grin down at her.

OOOOOOOOOO

Ellie is stretching in her bed when I walk in.

"Mummy!" she greets me, and I wonder if anything will ever thrill me as much as hearing the unbridled joy in her voice whenever she speaks my name. Even the way her father used to call me fails to hold a candle to the way she speaks her name for me.

She jumps out of bed and runs to me, and I pick her up and hold her close. It may be my imagination, but I think she may feel longer in my arms than she did last week – or it may just be guilt at leaving her every other week.

But it won't be permanent. Once I get ERA sorted out in New York, once I write the piece on Edward, once I end the political ambitions that were more important to him than were Ellie and I…then I'll be home to stay once again.

I walk us over to her bed and sit on the edge, holding her on my lap, gazing at her, smoothing down her hair. Unlike her eyes, which are exactly like her father's, her hair is a shade darker, more of a mixture of his and mine, I suppose. I swallow thickly.

"Good morning, sleepy head. I think you've grown this week." I smile.

She giggles. "We must measure me on the wall then, Mummy, to see if the line has moved."

Her sweetness makes me sigh. "You're right. Let's go do that right now."

We walk over to the wall behind the bedroom door, where I've annotated Ellie's growth with a pencil ever since she's been old enough to stand. After she stands still against the wall, I draw a line, and she turns and we both see that it's exactly where it was a fortnight ago - when we last did this.

She frowns, emerald eyes full of confusion. "But I thought I was bigger, Mummy."

I pick her up again, reveling in my ability to do so once more. The way I miss her when I'm gone is indescribable, and I know she misses me too. It guts me.

"Listen to me," I smile tenderly, "you, Miss Elizabeth, are growing up so quickly I barely recognized you last night. Where's my Ellie? I was about to ask, 'til I looked closer and realized that it was you, only so much bigger!"

She giggles heartily in my arms.

"Nanny and Aunt Alice tell me your team won the game yesterday."

Her face beams with pride. "I scored the winning goal, Mummy! I wish you would've seen it. I kicked the ball so hard it went flying past the goalie's head!"

I grin at her, touching the tip of my finger to the tip of her nose. "I'm sure Coach Hale must've been in heaven," I smirk.

Her mouth lifts up in a familiar crooked grin. "Aunt Rose took us all for ice-cream afterwards, but she let me have two scoops instead of one like the other girls!"

I sigh deeply. Rose spoils her. They all do. But it's hard not to. Along with her father's looks, Elizabeth has inherited his charisma, that indefinable something that makes everyone love her.

She also has a competitive streak.

"There are more important things than winning. You know that Ellie, don't you? There are more important things than being at the top."

A small line forms between her brows. "At the top of what, Mummy?"

I gaze at her quietly. "Never mind, my love. I'm so very proud of you. I wish I would've been there too."

She frowns. "Mummy, are you going back to New York?"

With her in my arms, I walk us back over to the bed. Perhaps her physical growth can't be differentiated between this week and last, but Ellie is a bright little girl; inquisitive. She's barely six, but one day soon she'll start to ask different questions - and I have no idea how I'll answer them.

"Ellie, Mummy has to go back to New York at the end of the week."

She looks down between us, and I can see her bottom lip quiver. It spears me.

I lift her chin up to look in her deep, reflective eyes. "Ellie, this won't be for much longer. I promise. And I'll ring you every day, the way I do now. And we can see each other over the phone and laptop screens. As soon as mummy takes care of everything she has to take care of, I'll come back to stay, and we'll never have to be apart again. In the meantime, Nanny and Aunt Alice and Aunt Rose will play with you, and take care of you, and you'll have so much fun you won't even miss me."

She looks up at this and furrows her brows, seeming puzzled. "But Mummy, of course I'll miss you. You're my mummy. No one takes care of me the way you do."

I pull her tightly against me. "I love you so much, Ellie. I'll always take care of you."

OOOOOOOOOO

I spend a few hours in the London office taking care of business. Michael calls to see how I've arrived. We talk for a while, purely business, which suits me perfectly today. I need to clear my head and forget about what's waiting for me in New York in a few days. Besides, it never gets too personal with Michael.

He has no idea that I have a daughter – no one in my business life does. When he and I met a couple of years ago, it was all business, and by the time we threw sex into the mix, my personal life didn't matter. I keep a flat in London, which is my official address. He knows I have family in the outskirts of London, but he doesn't know where, and he doesn't care – which works beautifully for me.

Rose and I text on and off, and settle it that she'll meet me at home in the late afternoon.

When I get home, Rose and Ellie are outside in the front yard, practicing football. Alice is home too, and she and my mom sit by the swing seat round the porch watching – while my mom laughs and calls out instructions to Ellie.

Ellie runs to me, and I kneel on the grass in my skirt and heels and hold her tight. She tells me about her day – it's the beginning of summer holidays so she has long days to play – and then Rose gives me a hug.

"So how'd it go?" she asks when Ellie starts bouncing the ball distractedly from one knee to the next.

"Not exactly as I'd planned, but…it's looking promising," I smirk.

I won't tell her about the washroom incident; she'd see it as weakness, as my inability to resist him completely.

Rose stares at me and then sighs heavily.

My mum and Alice and Rose know what I went to America for. Ellie is here, growing up without a father because Edward put his political ambitions ahead of everything - because he lied to me. Now he's running for Senate, and I know what his next step is, and throughout it all, I've watched his entire life and career unfold exactly as he'd planned it - while my daughter grows up fatherless.

But while my mum and Alice may not be one hundred percent behind what I'm doing, they keep their opinions to themselves – or at least hide them behind half-jokes and teasing.

Rose has been pretty verbal about her disapproval. But she's my best friend - always has been, and always will be. She's always been there for me, and when my life began to fall apart, when I thought I was lost, she stood behind me all the way. She's as much my family as my mum and Alice and Ellie.

She pulls me by my arm and walks me over to where Ellie can't hear.

"What does that mean, then?"

"It means that I sort of chickened out."

"So you didn't tell him that he's a father?"

I shake my head.

Rose lets out a long breath of relief. "Bella, this is probably for the best. You have no idea how he would've reacted-"

"No, Rose," I cut her off. "I'm still going to tell him. And what's more, Michael wants me to write a piece for the magazine on the Congressman."

"You're going to announce in the magazine that you and Edward have a child together? Is that how you're going to let him know?" she hisses incredulously.

"No! Of course not! But _he_ doesn't know that," I grin wickedly. "I'm going to tell him about Ellie, and then he's going to _think_ that I plan to include that in the piece. He'll resign just to avoid the scandal."

She glares at me. "Bella, this makes absolutely no sense."

I sigh and look down between us.

"Bella, what if he wants to be part of her life – even if just for show? You do realize what that would do to her privacy and yours, right?"

My head whips up. "No." I shake my head vehemently. "No, he won't want that. All he cares about is his political career. He'll want to keep it all secret, and he'll resign from the senatorial race just to make sure none of this ever comes out."

Rose shakes her head. "Bella, I don't understand what the point of all this is now – seven years later. He hurt you, but you moved on and bloody well without him. Just let it go and forget all about it. Or is it that…you just can't forget-"

My nostrils flare. "The point of all this now, Rose, is that he has no right to continue rising, to see all his dreams come true while _my_ daughter grows up without him!"

"So you want him to be a part of Ellie's life?"

"No!"

"Then what? What do you want? I just don't get it, Bella. Ellie is not just _your_ daughter," Rose says pointedly. "She's _his_ daughter too, and _he_ is a very powerful man! If he does decide he wants her, whether out of some temporary fatherly love or even just as a publicity stunt, all this might backfire on you!"

"I told you, he's _not_ going to want her – not as a publicity stunt nor as a father - which is fine because Ellie doesn't need a man like him in her life. But he shouldn't get everything his heart desires, not if she has to do without a father."

Rose is still unconvinced, as I knew she would be. She and I have disagreed about this since I told her what I was going to do. She doesn't want Edward in Ellie's life any more than I do, but while I know how heartless he is, while I know that he'll simply resign quietly just to avoid the scandal, Rose is afraid he'll use this somehow to his advantage. But what Rose fails to understand is that Ellie isn't part of the _Cullen Legacy_ – the one he told me about that weekend seven years ago – the one he had carefully planned out.

Conversation between she and I is strained for a bit after that – but we all have dinner together and eventually things return to normal and Rose and I are alright again. We've been through too much together for it to be any other way. Then I change out of my work clothes and put on some sweats, and we all go out to the back yard and play football with Ellie.

And I spend a beautiful week with my daughter and my family. Most mornings I go into the London office, but then I come home and play football with my daughter and Rose, help mum and Alice with dinner, Ellie and I go for long walks down the small beach in Old Leigh. We pick small shells and smooth rocks and bring them home for her fish tank. I take her to the amusement pier in Southend where we ride roller-coasters and have so much cotton candy Ellie's lips and tongue turn blue. On Wednesday and Thursday I work from home and Ellie and I spend the entire time together. It's almost perfect…

…until Michael calls me, late Friday night.

"Everything going well?" he asks.

"Yes, Michael. Everything is running smoothly."

"Good, good. Isabella, I know you're not due back in the New York office until Monday morning, but I need you back a day early."

"Why?" I blurt quickly. "Everything is going fine in the New York office, Michael. I'm in constant contact with Angela and Ben and-"

"I'm not worried about that, Isabella. I know you've got it all under control, but I got a call from Congressman Cullen earlier today. He says the only time he'll be able to set aside for the piece for ERA will be next week."

"Next week?" I hiss, closing my eyes and breathing out through my nose. "Fine, I suppose I can rearrange my schedule for next week. I'll give the photographer a call and let him know to be ready to travel Sunday night, but I need to know where we should meet the Congressman-"

"Isabella, the Congressman insists on a meeting before then, between you and him, to make sure you're both on the same page. I'm thinking early Sunday would be fine."

"A meeting?" I repeat through clenched teeth, barely controlling my fury. "I don't see why that's necessary."

"He says there are a few ground rules he wants to establish."

"Ground rules," I reiterate inflectionless.

He wants to censor me. He must be going absolutely mad wondering what I have planned for him.

Bloody wanker.

"Michael, will you be at this meeting?"

"I can be, if you want me to. I can rearrange my schedule a bit."

"Yes, I'd appreciate it."

"Isabella, sweetheart, are you afraid to meet with the Congressman alone?" Michael chuckles.

"No, Michael. I'm not afraid of the Congressman at all. I just want you there when he sets his ground rules, to make sure that there's no misunderstanding."

And so that Edward can see how useless his ground rules will be.

"I'll call Angela then and have her set it up with his people."

"Good girl," Mike says, a smile in his voice.

When we hang up, I stare at my phone for a long while, my hand trembling around it, all the soft and tender feelings surrounding me for the past few days slowly fading.

I'll have to face Edward again sooner than I'd thought, and by the looks of it, he's not going down easily. But I'm ready for this, I'm ready for _him_ – I _have_ to be.

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**So was this really a surprise? :)**

**We will continue alternating between past and present for a few more chapters.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	6. Chapter 6 - A Lesson in Politics

**A/N: This is a very long chapter. Under normal circumstances, I would've split it in two, but it just didn't lend itself into being split – so here you go.**

**And yes, many of us are frustrated with Bella at the moment. I understand. Yet the story continues unfolding so read on my lovelies… **

**Michelle Renker Rhodes betad this here beast.**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Ch. 6 – A Lesson in Politics**

**Then:**

What wakes me is the warm sensation of his hands pressed against my stomach. I open my eyes languidly, perceiving only a vague dimness across the room, a weak sliver of light that peaks through a pair of dark blinds. I'm abruptly aware that I'm spooned into him, that his warm breath is tickling my neck, his jaw resting on my shoulder. Whoever he is, he's quite fast asleep.

Then it all rushes me.

Edward.

That one name brings it all back: the pub, the park, the walk through London, the hotel.

_The hotel._

My eyes widen as recollection hits me, but I fight to keep my body from shaking, to keep my breathing even because I'm not quite certain that I want Edward to know that I've woken. My eyes move to the clock on the nightstand, which indicates that it's six-twenty seven a.m. I lie there for about fifteen minutes, watching each digit move up slowly, forcing my heart rate to remain steady, my shoulders to rise and fall in measured rhythm – while I try to determine what the bloody hell I'm going to do next.

Carefully, I unlace our fingers and then attempt to inch my way to the edge of the bed little by little, so as not to disturb the mattress-

"Bella, where are you going?" His voice is rough, raspy; still full of sleep.

"I…"

He reaches out and pulls me back, holding me closer than before, adjusting his hard, morning willy against my bum. His jaw skims against my shoulder, back and forth; the overnight growth scratching and tickling me in a sensual way I've never experienced. Then his mouth replaces his jaw and he feathers ghostly kisses first on my shoulder, and then raises my hair out of the way to place them all along the back of my neck, from shoulder to shoulder. My back arches as an almost all-consuming heat starts at the tips of my toes and ends at my scalp.

"_Bella…"_ His mouth moves to my ear. "Go back to sleep, beautiful Bella."

I nod and relax into his touch...his arms...his body...his warmth...and soon...

I'm fast asleep again.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next time I wake it's to his voice. He's pacing round the bed in black boxer briefs, one hand running through his wet hair, the other holding the phone up to his ear. A few drops of water sheen off his body, as if he's just emerged from the shower.

"Yes, McCarty. Room 1225. Do you have the full order? Okay, thanks. See you in a few."

When he puts the phone down he looks over and catches me gazing at him. I can't even look away because his body is absolute perfection. I hadn't really noticed last night as we got into bed because I was so nervous and because it all happened so quickly. But now I see that the man has not a sliver of fat anywhere. His muscles are sleek and slim, just like him, not sickeningly brawny. I'd always wondered what people meant by 'abs cut in the shape of a washboard,' but now I wonder no more.

He grins and my heart thumps. "Good morning, sleepy head." His palms come and rest on the bed on either side of me, and he lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me tenderly, tasting of mint.

"Good morning," I smile when he lifts himself up a bit. "What's the time, then?"

"It's almost ten." He sits on the edge of the bed, holding my gaze. "I ordered us some breakfast. It should be here soon."

I nod, shifting under the covers and realize that I'm in my knickers – though I'm not so sure that the same claim of perfection can be made for my body so under the covers I'll stay.

"I need to call Rose."

He smirks down at me and reaches into my jacket pocket, pulling out my mobile and handing it to me. I sit up next to him and lean back against the pillows, holding the comforter wrapped just under my shoulders.

Rose picks up on the first ring. "Right, are you okay then?"

"I'm just fine, Rose."

"Have you shagged him?"

"No!"

"If you do, make sure he wears a bloody dobber. And make sure you let him know you're a virgin and that he needs to take it easy with you. I've heard those American blokes can be quite-"

"Cheers, Rose," I say, and hang up quickly.

I look up at Edward, who's been sitting next to me the entire time. He grins in knowing amusement and I turn positively red, sure he's heard every word. My eyes shift to his neck, where a silver chain with a set of long rectangular pendants hangs loosely.

"My ID tags," he says, reading my mind. "To identify me in case something happens."

His words send a sliver of anxiety through me.

"What do you do in the military, then?"

His face is smooth and impassive. "We spend a lot of time running drills, clearing roads, providing escorts for military convoys. We also provide water and meals for the country's displaced peoples."

He shrugs, and I get the feeling he doesn't want to go into much more detail. I get this not from his face, rather from his eyes. It's hard to get anything from his expression.

I reach out and wrap my hands around his tags, cocking my head to read them. There's his name and a bunch of military abbreviations, numbers and letters. This close to his chest, I can see the way it rises and falls with a bit more agility than one might consider normal.

"Do you like them?"

"They're interesting."

He reaches up and lifts the chain off of his neck and places it round mine, his hands resting on my shoulders when he's done.

"What would your commanding officers say about this?" I grin.

"They'd probably have some very colorful words for me," he chuckles.

A knock comes on the door. "Room Service!" And while Edward goes to open it I slip into the bathroom. It's one of those ultra-luxurious bathrooms with all the amenities one could need, so I pick up the wrapped toothbrush and make my way into the shower.

OOOOOOOOOO

I emerge from the bathroom in a plush, white bathrobe I've found. Edward is lying back comfortably on the bed, hands behind his head, which is propped up with pillows, and long, muscular legs crossed casually at his feet. He looks like he's been waiting. When he looks up at me and grins, my heart literally thumps.

"Breakfast is ready," he announces, and I see a rolling cart with varied covered silver trays just along the side of the bed.

In bed is where we eat, side by side, talking about random things; me in my robe, he in his black boxers. I only manage a piece of toast and a bite or two of eggs even though Edward has ordered me a full English and American breakfast because he said he wasn't sure which I'd prefer. The baked beans and mushrooms, which I usually fancy to no end, go untouched – my stomach is too much of a bundle of nerves, of anxiety, of expectation. Because as the seconds and minutes go by, I realize that that's what this is – expectation: a long moment of foreplay.

He asks me about university, and I describe my classes to him. I tell him how I've a partial scholarship, but I work at the pub to pay for the rest because my mum just doesn't have that kind of money and I won't put her into debt, especially when Al will hopefully be going to university as well in a few years.

I tell him how Rose and Leah and I share a flat to cut down expenses.

I tell him how I'd like to be a journalist someday, or possibly write a book.

I tell him about Jacob and how utterly annoying he can be.

Edward's eyes are darker than I've seen them when I finish telling him about Jacob.

"You tell me if that asshole bothers you again, okay?" he says through barely moving lips.

"Sure." I roll my eyes. "I'll give you a ring over there and let you know."

Something crosses his expression, almost guilt I think for a moment, but it's gone so quickly I can't be sure. All his expression is in his eyes, I've come to learn in these past few hours with him.

"Anyway, Jacob is not _so_ bad," I say, trying to lighten the mood as well as his eyes again. "He pushes a bit, but he never crosses the line."

Edward barely nods. Abruptly, something vibrates from where his trousers rest on the floor. He walks over and picks them up, pulls out his mobile, takes a look at it and puts it back in his pocket. Then he returns next to me and grins.

We've gotten so comfortable during breakfast. The wariness I momentarily felt upon waking in his arms has completely vanished. He makes me feel comfortable as soon as he looks at me. When his eyes are on me, I forget I've known him for less than twenty-four hours. His expression is always serene, but his eyes tend to change not so much color, but shade, and I feel as if _they're_ what communicate to me.

"So I've told you loads about me, tell me more about this Cullen Legacy, then," I grin.

He smirks at me before raising his cup of orange juice to his mouth and draining it. Then with a smack of his lips he sets it down and lowers himself back over the bed, reaching up and lowering me down with him. He turns to his side to face me, resting one hand under his pillow to prop his head up, and then he turns me over to face him. I chuckle and mimic his pose.

"What more do you want to know?"

"Well," I frown, thinking and trying to better recall what he'd said yesterday, "Where do you go after Congress?"

"After Congress," he grins, hands playing with his I.D. tags round my neck before moving to play with a few strands of my hair. We're so comfortable here that every second that passes I'm amazed that it's been _less than twenty-four hours_.

"That's a long story, _Bella_." I love the way he says my name. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

I nod vehemently.

He chuckles. "Well, how much do you know about how the U.S. Government works?"

"They declared their independence and now have a President and a Congress."

"That's it?" he snorts.

I chuckle sheepishly. "That's it."

He rolls his eyes. "This is going to take a while."

He proceeds into this long explanation of how the U.S. Government is set up. Apparently there are three branches of government: Legislative, Judicial and Executive. The Legislative branch, or Congress, seems to make up the laws, and is broken into two houses: the House of Representatives and the Senate. The Judicial Branch's power is vested in the Supreme Court, who is in charge of interpreting and applying the laws of the land. They can also deem laws to be "unconstitutional." Oh, yes, the Constitution includes the actual laws of their land.

The entire time Edward gives me this American Government lesson, his free hand roams round my body, under my robe, which has shifted quite a bit since I tied it round myself in the bathroom. The exploration starts at my hair, but then he casually unties my belt as he speaks, his eyes on mine, and his fingers ghost down to my ribs. I squirm anxiously, but at the same time, his voice is so smooth and intense, I can't help but listen. And the anxiety I feel now is different from when I first woke. I get the feeling that one way or another, Edward is the only one who can end my uncertainty.

When he gets to the Executive branch of government, his hand roams down to my leg, eyes still firmly one mine. He strokes my thigh, up and down as he explains to me that the President is in charge of the Executive branch; he or she executes, administers and enforces the laws of the government.

"And let's face it," he grins, squeezing my thigh, "he _is_ the leader of the free world."

My heart is hammering against my ribs at this point, chest heaving unevenly. I'd never known a history lesson could be so tantalizing. It's like a total overload of sensation, between the intensity in his eyes, and the smoothness of his voice, and the heat of his touch.

"So how far do you intend to go?" I whisper.

I didn't mean for the question to be loaded, to have a double meaning, but as soon as it leaves my mouth, I realize what I'm asking – but I won't take it back.

He holds my gaze, fingers drawing circular patterns on my thigh. For a split second, I think I see something like hesitancy, or guilt fill his eyes again.

"I'd like to go…as far as I can."

"I think…I think you'll go all the way."

For the first time in the hours that I've known him, Edward's expression betrays him. He inhales unevenly, his breaths stammering on their way in before he releases it all in one long, heavy gust. His emerald eyes are on fire, swirling thick with desire and longing. His body shifts and suddenly he's over me, holding his weight up with his palms on either side of me.

"Bella," he breathes intensely, "I want it all. I _need_ it all."

I hold his gaze. "So it'll be _President_ Cullen then, will it?"

He nods slowly, and I realize that this is more than just a game to him.

"You're serious?"

He nods again.

I don't even know what to say, but then his mouth is on mine, burning, and when his tongue finds its way between my lips, I've forgotten what game we were playing. All that matters is the end result.

He groans and drops over me, enveloping me in his body, sinking his hands into my hair while I wrap myself around him and we roll around the large bed, first him on top, then me, over and over; mouths on lips and on jaws and necks and anywhere they can reach. There's no holding back. From the moment our eyes met in the pub, this is how we were going to end up.

"I can't resist you, Bella. I just _can't_," he breathes into my mouth.

"You don't have to."

He pulls away from me and meets my gaze, his face flushed and wild, and I'm exhilarated that _I've_ made him look this way; that _I've_ done away with that mask of calmness.

"Bella, nothing has to happen that you don't want to happen. I told you, I brought you here to rest and to talk and spend time together, and I meant that."

"I _want_ this to happen," I assure him emphatically, panting.

He seems hesitant again. "Are you a virgin?"

Bloody hell. I bite my lip and nod slowly. "I mean, I'm no angel. I've fooled around with a couple of blokes, but me knickers have always stayed on."

He chuckles and then nods as if he was completely expecting this answer.

But then he simply kisses me again, softer than before - but no less sensual, no less promising. Without pausing in his kisses, he releases my arms from the robe and it lays on the bed, no longer a part of me. Then one of his hands snakes behind my back, and I feel the clasp to my bra give before it loosens round me. With his mouth still on mine, he pulls the bra first down one shoulder then the other before chucking it off somewhere.

Now he does pull away from my mouth, and his eyes roam down. My chest heaves nervously, because I know there's not much to see, but he grins softly, as if he's pleased with what _is_ there, and his mouth trails down to my neck and further still. When I feel his warm lips round a nipple, I cry out and arch further into him. And when I think it can't possibly get any more intense, Edward continues his downward exploration. His mouth moves to my stomach while I grip his short hair.

"Edward…" I breathe, swallowing thickly.

His hands lower my panties, and then his mouth is on my thigh and I know where we're going and I'm scared as hell and thrilled as heaven.

"Edward…"

Smoothly, he trails soft, wet kisses further inward. I know where _he's_ going, and though some part of me wants to try to stop him, _wants_ to feel embarrassed, I'm on bloody fire. I think I may die if he doesn't kiss me there.

His tongue strokes the spot that I touch sometimes when I'm alone or in the shower, but the sensation I feel is maddening. I practically scream and my heart feels as if it's about to race out of my chest. My legs are weak and immobile, but Edward parts them all the way while his mouth and his tongue explore me in ways I've only ever dreamed. I come quickly and loudly, gripping the soft, white sheets round us.

While I'm trying to recover my wits, Edward gets up and looks round the room. His eyes land on his trousers on the floor. He retrieves them, and pulls something out of his back pocket this time.

"What is it?" I pant, when he returns over me.

"A condom."

For a split second I feel a fragment of apprehension, but my thighs are flexing anxiously and I simply watch him, chest heaving, as he lowers his boxers and kneels between my legs. His cock stands straight up as he rolls the condom on himself. With palms resting on either side of my head, his emerald eyes meet mine once more.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

I hold his gaze - wide-eyed - and nod.

He parts my legs once more with his own. "I'm going to slide in quickly while you're still wet, otherwise I think it might hurt more."

I have no idea, so I simply agree to his suggestion.

He holds me head between his hands and true to his word, slides it in one go.

I gasp, more shocked than in pain. A fullness I've never felt stretches me, but I wouldn't call it painful, just uncomfortable for the first few moments while Edward groans and kisses me. I feel his body quivering with restraint, and then slowly, he eases out before slowly pushing back in. His tongue swirls with mine while he moves his hips over me, hands gripping and caressing my hair. I grip his shoulders, the feeling between my legs morphing slowly into not so much pleasure, but a deep all-consuming _need_. I want him. I want him to want me, to enjoy this. To enjoy _me_. He fills me completely and every time he pulls out, I need the fullness back.

"Please," I find myself pleading every time he pulls away, wrapping my legs tightly round him and digging the heels of my feet into his back to keep him from pulling away too far. I dig my short nails into his back, trailing them down to his backside. He groans.

"Oh Bella…"

"Please, Edward…"

"Bella…you're so warm and tight…"

His voice shakes round the words. There's so much intensity and pleasure in every line, in every expression that appears on his face. He's no longer a calm, serene mask. Now I see him for who he is: A strong, virile, passionate and intense man.

I'm hypnotized by his eyes. I can't look away. He grips my head between his hands again and thrusts in hard, circling.

"I want you to come, Bella." His voice is rough, almost commanding. I think it's what turns me on as much as his strokes, and so I do come. I come loudly once more. He thrusts a couple of times and follows me soon after.

The entire time, I'm gazing into his beautiful eyes.

OOOOOOOOOO

For a long time afterwards, we lie quietly in bed together, while Edward strokes my hair, and I rest my head over his chest. I hear his phone vibrating again, but he ignores it.

"Have you ever been in love, Bella?" Edward asks abruptly.

_'I'm pretty sure I am right now.'_

That's my first thought, but I won't say it - not yet. I'm not sure why I'm holding it back after what just occurred between us, but for some reason I feel as if this isn't quite the right moment.

"I thought I was a few months back. I was dating this guy, Tyler, but…then he left for Liverpool and we broke up."

"So no serious relationships, then?" he asks.

I shake my head, which still rests on his chest. "How about you? Have you had any serious relationships? Ever been in love?"

I think I feel him stiffen under me. I lift my head and turn it to look at him. Again, I think I see something cross his features, something almost like…shame…but he leans his head down so quickly and captures my lips between his.

"My beautiful Bella…"

I completely forget what we'd been talking about.

OOOOOOOOOO

While Edward calls down for room service again, I excuse myself to the washroom for another bath.

The bathroom is entirely of brown and white swirled marble - with glass doors for the shower enclosure, and a showerhead that makes the water cascade like soft rain on my back and shoulders. I hear Edward's voice outside and smile to myself, happier than I've been in ages. I have no idea how we're going to manage once he has to leave tomorrow, but after everything that's happened between us, I'm confident we'll work it out.

I have no more time to think on that though, because through the glass windows of the shower, I see Edward step into the washroom. Completely naked, he walks confidently and un-hesitantly towards me and opens the door while I simply stare at him, wondering what in the world-

-his mouth crashes over mine and he drops his hands to my bottom and picks me up, pressing me against the marble wall. He hands me something and when I look at it it's a small foil pocket.

"Put it on me," he orders.

"I'm not sure how."

He chuckles and sets me down, taking the packet from me and ripping it open with his teeth. Then he hands the dobber back to me.

"Just roll it on."

I nod slowly while the hot water falls all around us, prickling my skin. With hesitant hands I roll it over his stiffness – it's easier than I'd thought – but before I can pat myself on the back for a job well done he picks me up once more and slides inside me. I'd been a bit sore just a moment ago, but this time the pleasure is immediate. In a few moments he has me crying out in an ecstasy I'd never imagined existed.

"Keep your eyes on me, Bella," he commands when he sees me coming, and I obey.

While I'm trying to catch my breath, he pulls out from me.

"Just want to know what it feels like without…what _you_ feel like without…" he says shakily, and then removes the condom and thrusts inside me quickly.

I gasp from both surprise and sensation while he pumps once, twice and then pulls out once more, crying out and spilling his stuff over my stomach. And then we simply stand there breathing hard while the water washes the stickiness away and he supports me in his arms, resting his forehead on mine, gazing at me in a manner that washes everything else away.

OOOOOOOOOO

It seems that Rose has called me again while I was in the shower with Edward, so I return her call.

"Are you okay?"

I grin to myself because I am _so_ much more than okay.

"Yes, Rose, I'm fine."

Even I can hear the sing-songy quality of my voice, so I can't really expect Rose to miss it.

"You bloody shagged him didn't you?"

I don't answer.

"Bleeding ell, you did! Oh Lord, please tell me he at least wore a dobber."

"Yes, Rose."

It's not really a lie. He did.

I can hear her sigh in relief. "Right then, you make sure he wears one every. single. time."

"Cheers, Rose."

This time, she giggles. I guess she's accepted that Edward doesn't plan to kill me. "Cheerio, Bella."

OOOOOOOOOO

"You were hungry, weren't you?" Edward teases me as we off the last of our lunch.

"Famished," I grin.

"You've worked up a bit of an appetite today."

I chuckle, feeling my face flush, but not caring. I'm happier than I've been in my life. And it's not the sex. _He_ makes me happier than I've ever been.

Edward and I have talked and talked for a couple of hours, in bed once again, this time completely naked under covers.

He's finished more of his story on the Cullen Legacy.

"So your father has mapped out this course for you from the beginning then, for you to someday be President?"

He nods, but then sort of shrugs noncommittally. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it too, Bella. I'd just rather get there in my own way rather than the path my father has planned for me."

"But what's so bad about the path your father has laid out for you?" I question. I can tell by the way that he speaks of his dad that he's not very fond of him.

Edward sighs and looks straight up at the ceiling, holding me tight while he plays with my hair. I keep my eyes on him.

"Carlisle Cullen is a very…demanding man. Things must be done exactly to his specifications. There was only one person who could ever talk sense to him, and she died."

"Your mum?"

He nods. "Her name was Elizabeth."

I smile softly. "That's a beautiful name - a regal name."

His eyes are so sad again, staring straight up as if he's seeing something on the ceiling that's not there.

"She _was_ beautiful. She kept our family at peace. She was the glue that kept us together, and I don't just mean the three of us, I mean our entire family. Bella…" he trails off hesitantly. "I come from a long generation of politicians, where achieving the White House is a goal talked about the way other families talk about hoping their kids become doctors - difficult but definitely within the realm of possibility." He breathes in deeply. "It's always been a hope in my family that a Cullen would come along that could take it all the way, but it's never been as close as it is now."

"You're the one," I nod emphatically, because it seems so obvious even in the short time I've known him. There's just something about him…

He shrugs. "That's what my father says, and I want it, Bella, I do, and I think I can..." He pauses. "Remember how I told you that my father became very upset when I joined the military?"

I nod again, though he's still not looking my way.

"He has so many plans for me, Bella; some that I'm just starting to realize that I may not want to follow. He believes they'll help me achieve our long-range goals quicker, but…"

"But what?" I prompt.

He turns to look at me, his green eyes soft and so open. "But they're not what I want. I didn't realize that before, but now it's so clear…"

I feel as if he's trying to say something, but I'm not sure what. I reach out and cup his cheek in my hand. He closes his eyes.

"Your hands are so warm…"

"Edward, I've never met anyone like you. Even in that pub, it's like those blokes worshipped you. While we walked half of London everyone we passed had to give you a second look. Even from a few feet away I could see how the bloody girl at the concierge was smitten with you. And it's not just your looks. You have this…charisma, this strength, Edward. It absolutely emanates from you. I don't think you need to follow your father's way. I think you'll get there on your own."

He grins at me and gives me a soft, tender kiss.

"I think my Aunt Esme is really going to like you," he says, and my heart soars because if he plans on someday introducing me to his aunt, then he plans on keeping me around for more than this weekend.

But I try to be nonchalant about it. "That's your mum's sister, right?"

He nods. "Her son, my cousin Jasper, is also in politics. He's a few years younger than me, but he doesn't plan to take time off to serve his country," he smirks. "He'll be taking the bar in a couple of years and will probably run for Representative soon after."

"Blimey, you weren't joking when you said the entire family was involved in politics."

He shakes his head and chuckles ruefully. "The Cullen Legacy requires everyone to do their part, to serve their purpose, to avoid scandal and disgrace at all costs. To serve the people, we have to strive to be the best." He's quiet for a few seconds. "My father has been teaching me that since first grade."

I don't even know what to say to that. My dad taught me to bounce a football from one leg to the other and called it a valuable lesson learned.

"Edward...when you ordered breakfast before, I heard you say, 'McCarty'."

He chuckles. "That's Emmett's last name, one of the guys in my unit. He lent me his credit card."

I stare at him, puzzled.

"I don't want my father tracing my whereabouts."

"Oh," I nod. His phone vibrates yet again, and he turns over and reaches for his denims, which are now over a chair next to the bed. I get a good look at his bum when he stretches over. My oh my.

Once again, he checks the call and closes his phone, chucking the trousers off.

"Are they important calls?" I ask.

He shakes his head, face impassive. "No."

I'm confused and frankly feeling a little bit anxious once more, like I'm missing _something_.

"So no one knows where you are right now, then?"

"Emmett knows, and that's enough."

He's silent for a while, then he pushes me down against the mattress and rolls over me. "Speaking of last names, what's your last name, Bella?" he grins.

I smile coyly. "Well, my last name may not be associated with any legacy, but it has a long, rich history as well. My dad used to tell me about it when I was little."

"What is it?"

"We descend from Viking settlers who arrived in Scotland during medieval times. My father even claimed that we descend from a Scottish king or two," I grin.

"Ah, so you're royalty," Edward murmurs, but his hands are moving downwards, caressing my breasts, and I know that he's got other things in mind besides royalty at the moment.

"So he said," I breathe unevenly while he plays with my nipples.

"What's your last name, Bella?" he whispers, kissing down my neck.

"Guess," I barely mumble, playing with his short hair.

He rolls us over so that I'm on top of him now.

"Smith, Michaels, Brady, Williams..." He continues shooting out random surnames against my lips while I chuckle and shake my head. I feel his erection against my stomach and really, I can't think of much more than that.

"Do those even sound remotely Viking?" I question unevenly while he rubs himself against me.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, "As future President of the United States I need to have a working knowledge of many cultures of the world. I guess I have to brush up on my Viking."

I giggle while I feel him trying to line himself up just right. "Edward," I say urgently, remembering Rose's warning, "we really need a condom."

"You're right. You're right. I was just going to feel you quickly. You're so warm and moist…" he breathes. Then he rolls me over, and I see his perfect bottom again as he stretches over the bed once more. He opens the night stand drawer and pulls out a pack of condoms.

"So is that where those have been coming from, then?"

"Room service is good for everything," he grins smugly, sitting up and opening a packet and rolling it over himself. He lies over the bed and guides me over him.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," I say honestly.

"It'll come naturally," he assures me.

And then I lower myself over him, and he's absolutely right. It does come naturally.

OOOOOOOOOO

Late in the evening, we're in bed after our third round of room service and about our fourth round of love-making. It's peaceful and quiet, and in Edward's arms I feel safer than I've felt my entire life.

"Bella," Edward begins carefully, just as I was drifting off for a small nap – to rebuild my energy.

"Mm?" I moan, my head over his chest, body pressed into his.

"I've got six months to go on my tour of duty." He's silent again. "Wait for me, Bella. I'll come back when my tour ends and take you back to the States with me."

My heart swells in my chest. I hoped, I _expected,_ that he'd want to keep in touch, that we'd write and call and hopefully once his tour was over he'd come see me.

But he wants to take me back with him. I'd miss my mum and Alice and Rose, and maybe even Jake and Leah - but yes, of course I'll go. I'll follow him anywhere.

Still, he's told me about his father, and I have a feeling that a working-class English girl from the outskirts of London doesn't quite fit in with the elder Cullen's plans. I'm intimidated by his father already and I haven't even met him.

I lift my head and look at him, positive I'm failing completely at hiding my hope.

"What about your dad, Edward?"

"I don't care about my dad."

"What about the Cullen Legacy?"

"I'll get there on my own." He reaches down and lifts me up to meet his gaze, holding my face wrapped in his hands. He does this a lot – like I'm something precious and fragile to him, something he's afraid might break if he holds on too tight.

"We'll get there together."

And when he kisses me, I believe every word he says.

* * *

**A/N: So what are we thinking now?**

**See? Told you it was a looong one!**

**The "Then" and "Now" format of the story will eventually end (not for a few chapters yet), and then we'll have Ed's POV too, which I know a lot of us are anxious for. Hang in there. :)**

**BTW, in the present, Bella DOES live with her daughter. It's just for the past couple of months that she's been traveling that she hasn't been with her every day. Just something I wanted to clear up.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	7. Chapter 7 - The Ground Rules

**A/N: Apparently, as more than one of my Brit lovelies told me, there is no such thing as a 'dobber' (!) - which is the word I used as Brit slang for 'condom.' Totally my bad, and I apologize. I suppose this is what happens when you're not a Brit yourself and rely on Google for help with your Brit slang! I've been told to use 'johnny' next time. I suppose this is the reason that the 'dobber' didn't work in the last chapter - it doesn't exist! Hah!**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - The Ground Rules**

**Now:**

My return flight to New York doesn't proceed as smoothly as did my flight to London. We're parked on the tarmac for almost three hours before finally lifting off. Then I arrive to a storm over New York City, which necessitates us queuing behind other planes and circling round for another hour or so. Needless to say, my mood is rather shitty by the time we finally land.

Then again, I'm always much more somber when I make the trip in this direction. I'm leaving my daughter for another long week, another week of only hearing her voice over the mobile, of only seeing an image of her beautiful face on screen. My only solace is that I know it won't be for much longer and that I'm leaving her in good hands. My mum and Alice and Rose love her immensely, and she loves them.

"_But you're my mummy. No one takes care of me the way you do."_

I hear her sweet words in my mind as the Bentley delivers me back to my midtown flat. I feel her small arms round my neck as I lay her in her bed a few hours ago and said goodbye. I close my eyes and see her emerald eyes smiling up at me, sparkling like glittering gems.

Abruptly, the face around the eyes transforms, morphs into stronger features; a square jaw displays a demanding intensity my daughter doesn't yet possess. I see _him_ behind my lids.

My nostrils flare because it's _his_ fault I had to cut short my time with my daughter, his fault I'll be missing her Sunday afternoon football game. Normally, I would've stayed for the game and then headed for Heathrow straight after. But thanks to Edward's need for a Sunday brunch meeting to discuss "the ground rules" for the piece, I had to leave the night before.

By the time I close the apartment door behind me, it's six in the morning here in New York and I'm too tightly wound to even attempt to sleep for a few hours. Besides, my internal clock now has to adjust once more. To me, it's already noontime. Instead of sleeping, I take a long, hot shower and try to clear my mind for the upcoming meeting. When I emerge, I have a text message from Michael checking in to make sure that I've arrived okay. I text him back quickly and confirm our meeting time and place, spend some time on the phone with Ellie and my mum, and then continue the research I've been doing on the Congressman.

At eleven a.m. I shut off my laptop and open my closet. After a few minutes, I decide on a sleeveless, red linen sheath that ends right above my knees, fitted with a skinny, black patent leather belt. Black, patent leather, red-soled Christian Louboutins complete my outfit. I dry my hair and then wind it into a perfect bun over my head. With my red lipstick and large, black Dior sunglasses, I'm quite reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn a la _'Breakfast at Tiffany's.'_

The outfit is a hit based on the looks I get when I step out of the cab in front of the swank, midtown café to which Michael has directed me. I check in with the hostess and am told that my party is already here. Despite my inner efforts, despite the fact that I know I look smashing, my heart still races in my chest.

I'm led in between tables, back to a more private part of the restaurant. As we walk on, we pass a dark-haired, muscular-looking man alone at one of the small tables. He's dressed all in black, and as he looks up at me with a grin, I quickly search my memory because I know I've seen him recently.

But then my eyes meet a pair of green ones, and my memory escapes me.

Edward is in the middle of saying something to Michael, but his eyes remain on me. His words seem to halt mid-stream for a second, yet his features remain cool and controlled. Michael turns and sees me, and then both men rise as I approach the table.

"Isabella," Michael grins, reaching out for me. He winds his arm round my waist and kisses me on the mouth. As I pull back and face Edward to greet him, the look in his eyes reminds me of one I saw once, back in that hotel room; dark and narrowed. But when Michael turns away from me, Edward's eyes are bright and grinning.

"Ms. Swan," he puts a hand out to shake mine, "it's great to see you again."

I shake his hand, remaining as impassive as he does as that maddening tingle rolls up my arm and invades the rest of my body.

"It's great to see you too, Congressman."

He looks fucking impeccable, the bloody bastard. His dark, custom suit shows off strong, wide shoulders that narrow into a lean, ex-military torso. His copper hair once again takes me by surprise because in my mind, he'll always have the short hair he sported that weekend. That's still how I see him in my memories. But that's not to say that the longer mane doesn't suit him brilliantly. The rest of him is tailored to perfection, all but his hair…with no direction, it gives him an air of youth and carelessness. His dark tie is striped in emerald, bringing out his eyes and they're so much like Ellie's that my chest tightens.

But I simply grin as the beautiful bastard pulls out my chair, and take a seat at the cozy, round table for three.

The hostess says something about calling her if we need anything, but while the comment is supposed to be for all of us, her eyes are firmly on Edward, even though Michael is no ugly duckling. He's of average height with a lean build, not as toned as Edward's - as I can vouch for – with dark blue eyes and blond hair that he slicks back perfectly so that not a strand of it is out of place.

Michael chuckles as the hostess – who is still looking back until she turns the corner – walks away.

"Ms. Swan," Edward says, "I hope you don't mind that we've already ordered. I have a tight schedule today."

I remove my sunglasses and flip a hand carelessly. "That's fine, Congressman, and I hope you don't mind that I asked Michael to join us for this meeting. I thought it would be a good idea to have an extra set of ears around to help us…navigate the ground rules."

"That's no problem at all, Ms. Swan. I understand completely if you feel that you need your employer's help and support with navigating through this, especially as this will be your first big piece."

"I can assure you, Congressman, I _am_ quite capable."

"I'm sure you are." His eyes laugh at me. "Now, I've ordered us all a typical English brunch," he smiles brightly, "including eggs, baked beans, and mushrooms."

_Take your baked beans and mushrooms and stuff them up your cocky arse_.

"That's very thoughtful of you, Congressman, but I never have cared for baked beans or mushrooms."

His face remains stoic, though of course he knows I'm lying, but I'm not here to play this game with him.

"I'll just have a cup of tea, thank you. My stomach is still a bit knotted from the flight."

"You do look a bit tired," Edward says, then brushes lightly under an eye. "You've got some puffiness around here."

_Effin' ell._

"It was a bloody long flight, Congressman, made longer by the fact that I had to fly throughout the wee hours of the morning to be able to accommodate this meeting with you." I smile tightly. "Therefore, I apologize if I don't look quite up to standard."

"You've got a bit of a cockney accent there, don't you, Ms. Swan? What brings it out? Because I'm sure I didn't pick up on it the other night." He grins pleasantly.

My mouth tightens into a straight line.

Michael clears his throat. "Isabella, darling, you should've taken one of the company jets back. You know they're at your disposal."

"Thank you, Michael, but I assure you that I'm fine and quite ready for this meeting. As long as my accent or any puffiness under my eyes doesn't offend the Congressman too much, we should be alright."

"I'm not offended at all, Ms. Swan," the Congressman answers, smooth grin in place, holding my gaze.

"Alrighty then," Michael says, clapping his hands together. "Let's get down to business!"

I blink and look away from Edward.

OOOOOOOOOO

The men eat and I sip my tea while we make small talk for a while before getting down to the real business at hand. The Congressman picks up a folder resting next to him and hands it to me.

"This is my schedule for the week, Ms. Swan – or should I say, _our_ schedule."

"Thank you," I murmur as I peruse it carefully. It's quite busy, I note. We'll be on Capitol Hill for the first three days of the week, followed by campaigning in Buffalo on Thursday and Brooklyn on Friday. Saturday and Sunday he's reserved for time at his family home on Long Island.

"Included are also the passes you'll need to gain entry into the Capitol, as well as your campaign passes."

I look under the itinerary and find passes with my name _and_ image, incredulously enough.

"We'll need another set of these," I say, fingering the passes. I'm met with silence, and when I look up, Edward is watching me sedately, but his eyes are tight. He looks between Michael and me.

"I apologize, but I wasn't aware that Mr. Newton would be coming along to help you with this too."

Michael chuckles heartily while I quietly bristle.

"She doesn't need my help, Congressman. I believe Isabella is referring to passes for the _photographer_."

I smile at Edward and nod. "Yes, Congressman, the _photographer_. We _will_ need pictures for the piece, won't we? Our photographer is Austin Marks. Do you think you'll be able to obtain these passes for him by the morning?" I ask innocently, pretending I don't see the ice in his eyes.

"The photographer. Of course. Just email me his name and credentials and I'll make sure his passes are waiting with security on the Hill in the morning."

"Thank you, Congressman," I grin sweetly.

He nods; his expression blank.

"Now, Ms. Swan, Mr. Newton has obviously filled you in on why I wanted to meet with you today, before we begin this process."

"Yes, he has, Congressman," I respond, still perusing through the schedule.

"I wanted to set down some…ground rules."

I lift my eyes to him, slowly raising my head. Putting aside the schedule, I lace my hands together over the table.

"What sort of ground rules did you have in mind?"

Edward leans forward in his seat and mimics my pose.

"First, as you can see, this is going to be a very busy week. I'd like to ask you to please let me proceed with my work, and if you have any questions, we can talk about them at the end of the day."

I nod. "That sounds reasonable."

"Second, if you're going to speak to any of my staff, please discuss it with me first so that I may make sure that he or she may spare the time."

I nod again, though more slowly this time. "I suppose that also sounds…fair."

His expression is serene, but he watches me carefully. "Thirdly, Ms. Swan, once you complete your piece, I'd like to see the final version _before_ it's printed."

I grin wryly. "May I ask why?"

"I'd like to reserve the right to have certain parts removed if they don't meet with my approval."

I feel my fingers digging into the back of my hands, my mouth tightening into a straight line once more.

"Do you have something to hide, Congressman?"

"I have _nothing_ to hide, Ms. Swan."

"Then I don't see the need for that third rule."

Out of my periphery, I can see Michael's eyes on both of us, back and forth, but he sits back against his chair and says nothing.

"Ms. Swan, I simply want to make sure that nothing is printed that is untrue."

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly, smiling coolly. "Congressman, though I've spent the past couple of years in mergers and acquisitions, my degree is actually in journalism. I spent my first year out of university writing for a publication outside of London. Granted, it was a small publication, but I very much believe in journalistic integrity and do _not_ make a habit of publishing lies or half-truths. I _am_ a professional, Congressman, and I assure you, I don't intend to write anything that I cannot back up with facts."

I see a small smile spread across Michael's amused face.

Edward's expression remains calmly emotionless.

"I want final word on the piece, Ms. Swan, or there will be no piece."

"That right there is censorship, Congressman." I smile and cock my head sideways. "Doesn't that go against the first amendment to the American Constitution? Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, etcetera, etcetera," I quote. "I'm sorry, Congressman," I snort, "but it sounds to me like you're definitely breaking one of your own amendments."

Edward grins smoothly. "You seem very well informed on the American form of government, Ms. Swan."

I lean into the table and grin crookedly. "I've done some research."

There's a barely noticeable flare of his nostrils. "I'm sorry, Ms. Swan, but I won't budge on this."

We glare at each other while out of my periphery, I see Michael still watching, seemingly bemused. I angle myself towards him, completely dismissing Edward from our conversation.

"I've been in contact with Ben Affleck's agent. If we act right away, he's promised to clear me for an interview with him. He has a new movie, _'Argo,_' coming out in a few months; it's expected to create more buzz than any film in recent history, regarding an undercover CIA operation in Iran. My sources tell me that Ben is about to skyrocket to tremendous popularity and celebrity having acted, directed and produced such a significant film."

"How's his schedule?" Michael asks.

"Tight, but his agent would love him on the cover of ERA. He'll squeeze us in. For now, we can run with the pieces we already have scheduled and then squeeze the Affleck piece in before-"

"At least a courtesy copy," Edward hisses lowly, "before the piece is actually published, so I can know what to expect."

Slowly, I angle my body so that I'm once again facing Edward. "A courtesy copy," I repeat, holding his tight gaze. After a few seconds, I offer him a languid grin and nod. "I believe we can provide a courtesy copy, Congressman, so that you'll know what to expect."

He keeps his hypnotizing eyes on me, a slow smirk lifting up at one corner of his mouth. I have to look away quickly when he looks at me that way.

"Then I believe we've worked out all the ground rules."

OOOOOOOOOO

Once that business is done, we discuss a few logistics for the following day.

Michael abruptly pulls out his mobile. "Shit, it's later than I thought. I've got to get going. I'm flying to L.A. in a few hours."

He stands quickly and does up the last two buttons to his suit jacket. "Isabella, may I speak with you for a couple of minutes?"

"Of course, Michael." I excuse myself and walk a few feet with him, to an area where we're still within Edward's view, but not his hearing range.

"You handled the Congressman very well. He can be very…demanding."

"He's an arrogant prick, but yes, I'm sure I can handle him."

Michael chuckles. "Have you really spoken to Affleck's agent?"

"Yes, actually, I have."

He jerks his head back and snorts, quietly impressed yet at the same time, I can tell by his grin that he's not surprised. He knows me - at least, this part of me.

"Well, I'll be in L.A. for a few days. Give me a call if you need anything."

"Thanks, Michael. I will."

He reaches out and runs his thumb down my cheek. We haven't slept together in a couple of weeks, and I can see the desire in his eyes. Still, I'm not delusional - not anymore. Michael is obscenely rich, powerful and good-looking enough. If he hasn't relieved his stress elsewhere, he will. And that's quite fine. Our relationship was never one based on romance. We've simply helped each other out in the past, in the office - and sometimes out of it.

Which is why his next words shock me.

"Do me a favor, Sweetheart? Don't sleep with the Congressman."

I'm too dumbfounded to respond straight away.

"Pardon?" I finally say, removing his finger from my face.

Michael snorts. "Isabella, you know I don't like to interfere in your private life. Though we have a great relationship, it's not that kind of affair - for either of us."

I nod, pursing my lips.

"Isabella, sweetheart, that was a pretty interesting exchange back there."

I cross my arms against my chest. "And?"

"And I see the way he looks at you. Now the Congressman isn't known to be a saint," he chuckles, "but he's usually good at keeping his love interests private, for obvious reasons. Like I said, you and I don't have the type of relationship where I believe I have any right to tell you with whom to sleep and with whom not to sleep. I'm telling you this as a _friend_, Isabella."

I quirk a brow. "What exactly are you telling me _as a friend_, Michael?"

He lifts his thumb to my cheek again, caressing it gently. His eyes stray in the direction of Edward and when he brings them back to me, they're full of amusement.

"I'm telling you that the way he looks at you is way too intense, Isabella, and I've known the congressman for a while. He usually reserves the intensity for the Hill. I worry that this would be more than just a casual affair to him – and I simply don't want to see you splattered all over the papers here and in England as the woman who derailed the future leader of the free world. Besides, I've worked too hard with my lobbying and support of him. It would be such a waste to have to start all over with someone else."

I shake my head and snort lowly. "Michael, I have no intention _whatsoever_ of sleeping with the Congressman."

Michael eyes me carefully for a few seconds. "That's good to know, Isabella." Then he moves in closer to my ear. "I'll call you when I'm back in town. Maybe I can come over?"

I've always been fine with it, but knowing that Edward is just a few feet away, knowing that his eyes are probably on us right now, suddenly makes me feel dirty, and as insane as it sounds, _guilty_, as if I'm doing something dodgy.

"We'll talk, Michael."

Michael nods and grinning, waves behind me to Edward before leaving.

I walk back to the table with my chin held high - though I feel disgusted all of a sudden - and pick up my purse.

"Congressman, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow-"

"Please sit down, Ms. Swan. I've ordered you another tea with two sugars and a spoonful of honey."

Yes, that's how I took it that weekend.

"Thank you, but I really need to get going." I turn on my heel to leave.

"Bella, _please_…just sit down for two minutes."

His voice is quiet, so smooth, the way I remember it from so long ago. I close my eyes and I swear I mean to walk away, but the next thing I know I'm sitting in front of him once more, looking into those sodding emerald eyes.

"What do you want?"

"What do _I_ want?" he repeats; then snorts. "I'm not the one who showed up out of the blue a week ago, promising to bring you down."

I grin wryly.

Despite the topic of conversation, he grins back, leaning forward, closer than he did before, so close I can feel his breath on my face when he speaks.

"Why don't you tell me what you have planned, Bella? You already got me to agree to let you write that piece any damned way you see fit – as long as you can prove your facts. So tell me how you plan to do it?"

"_Tell him! Tell him!"_ a little voice inside me commands. _"Tell him that he's a father! Tell him what came out of that weekend!"_

When I was first pregnant with Ellie, back when I was still stupidly hopeful, I imagined the moment when I'd tell Edward about her in so many ways. But it was never this way, never as a punishment, never as something that would destroy him.

I sit there grinning while all these turbulent thoughts go through my mind.

He moves in closer still, so close that I can see all the different shades of green in his eyes – the same exact shades that are in Ellie's.

"Do you plan on writing about that weekend?" he whispers with a cocky grin. "Is that what you think will destroy me, Bella? Will _hurt_ me? Telling the world about that weekend? Because you're wrong if that's what you think."

There's absolutely nothing of fear in him. He's not worried or anxious in any way. Meanwhile, I'm falling apart on the inside, wanting to tell him, but so fucking devastated that if nothing else, _that_ would be the horror to him. The knowledge of our daughter's existence would wipe that smug grin off his face, and that knowledge breaks my heart and infuriates me all at once, because Ellie is not a punishment, she's a blessing.

I move in closer to him, only a handful of inches separating our faces. "You're so fucking cocky, aren't you?"

He snorts, inching closer still, his full lips just centimeters from mine. "Is that how you see me, Bella? Is _that_ how you think I feel right now - _cocky_?"

"Of course. You covered your tracks well that weekend, didn't you?"

"What are you talking about?" he sneers.

"I didn't see it clearly then, but I had plenty of time to think things over afterwards. You didn't approach me until it was late at night, in a part of town where very few would know who the bloody fuck you were in the first place."

"You think I planned that?" he hisses. "I walked half of London with you!"

"In the wee hours of the morning," I chuckle humorlessly, "with a lot fewer witnesses than in the daytime. And then you kept me locked in that hotel room for the rest of the weekend, ordering room service left and right - away from any probing eyes."

"Kept you locked in there, Bella? Is that how you remember it? Because the way I remember it, you were more than happy to be there with me! You never once asked to go anywhere or to leave!"

"And then the ultimate brilliance was the fact that the room wasn't even in your name, was it, but rather in your mate's name. Oh, you covered your tracks quite well, Congressman, I commend you. Trust me; I'm quite aware of how hard a time I'd have proving that weekend."

He glares at me, nostrils flaring, his smooth composure all but gone in the back of this restaurant, round this cozy little table.

I watch his lips as he speaks. "What do you want, Bella? Why appear back in my life after all these years?"

Again, the words are on the tip of my tongue. I think of our daughter; I picture her long copper locks waving in the wind as she plays her favorite game of football. Her soft giggles carry in my memory, and I _can't_ expose the truth about her like this – as if she _is_ anywhere near torture, as if she _were_ retribution for all his sins.

My mind is in chaos. When I open my mouth I'm not even sure what I'm about to say, but then Edward leans away and sits casually in his seat, and though his eyes are darker and angrier than I've ever seen them, when he speaks he's recovered all the coolness and composure in his voice.

"You've turned out very differently from what I'd imagined, Bella," he muses quietly. "I mean, I pictured you off somewhere in England, married, with a couple of kids, possibly writing…living your life and never even thinking about that weekend." He snorts. "I definitely didn't picture you as a top exec in Michael Newton's empire, sleeping your way up the ranks."

As soon as the last syllable leaves his mouth, his face contorts in horror. For a moment he looks shocked at himself - as if he hadn't fully planned to say exactly what he's said. He's a politician; _every_ word is planned, yet the politician in him has _always_ been able to feign shame quite well.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

I chuckle and sit back as casually as he, crossing my legs. "I'd tell you to go fuck yourself, Congressman, but I have a feeling you haven't been able to quite fuck anything since you met me in that restroom last weekend."

He flinches slightly, and something like pain crosses his features. Of course he's in pain; I can still feel me crushing his cock between my fingers.

"I'm a whore, then. Is that what you're saying, Congressman? I was a whore then, and continue to be a whore now."

"No, Bella," he hisses. "I _never_-"

"Either a whore, or you pictured me off living some insignificant, unimportant life, hiding from the world because the great Edward Cullen once fucked me over? Is _that_ what you thought, Love?"

He moves in closer again. "Bella, I never meant to-"

I jerk forward quickly, our faces so close they're almost touching. My voice shakes when I speak.

"_You_ do not know me. Don't think that because you stuck your cock in me one weekend long ago that you know a _thing_ about me," I hiss, "a thing about what I want or what I think or _why_ I do the things I do."

"Bella, I don't want to argue with you. I just want to-"

"We're not arguing, Congressman," I say much more steadily. "Tomorrow, Austin and I will meet you on Capitol Hill. I'll watch you, talk to you, talk to your staff, and get a clear picture of who Edward Cullen, Congressman and future Senator really is, and I will write about _that_ in my piece." I remove a hundred dollar bill from my purse and throw it down on the table before standing up. "You have nothing to fear from me in _that_ regard, Congressman," I sneer.

Edward stands up and quickly reaches out, grabbing me just above my wrist. I gasp quietly at the contact. He moves in closer.

"_Bella_," – he says my name smoothly, in that way he used to have that would send shudders through me – "I _never_ wanted things to be this way between us. How did we get here?"

I look up at him, into those hypnotizing green eyes and remember a time when I allowed myself to get lost in them, when I believed anything he said as long as he was looking at me through those eyes. I close my eyes to ground myself before opening them up again.

"You know exactly how we got here, and how things will or will not be between us will be entirely up to you, _Edward_. As I said, we'll work together this week and keep things as professional as possible." I raise my other hand and discreetly yet firmly remove his grip from my arm. "But when the week is over, you and I need to have a talk, and that's when we'll see how true those words actually are. I'll see you in the morning, _Congressman_."

As I make my way out, the dark-haired bloke, Emmett, looks up at me and grins.

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**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Reality

**A/N: I'm updating a day early. If you want to know why, check out the A/N at the end of the chapter. If you don't really care why and just want to get to it, read on. :)**

**There is another FAQ section at the end of this chapter. I know some of you appreciate it while some of you hate it. Again, ignore it if you're not interested. :)**

**Lots of strong feelings are being brought out by this story. I'm glad its making you all think. Just remember, there's still a lot of the story we don't know. :)**

**Enough with the smiley faces.**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes is my beta chickie.**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer.**

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**Chapter 8 – Reality**

**Then:**

Sunday morning, I wake up with my head resting over Edward's chest and find him gazing down at me.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

It's the same way he greeted me yesterday morning, and I can see myself waking to this greeting forever. His voice is rough with sleep, but his eyes are tender; gentle. I think I see something in them – something I've never seen before when a bloke has looked at me. It reminds me of the way my dad used to look at my mum.

"What time is it, then?"

He chuckles. "I love…the way you talk; not just your accent or the way you phrase things, but all the expression in your face."

My heart thumps because for a moment I thought he was going to say something else. But this is close enough.

"You're quite mad," I say, hiding my flushed face against his smooth chest because I'm positive he can read me like a book.

"You're quite mad," he mimics, placing his hands under my arms and lifting me to him.

"I love…the way you talk too," I smile.

He grins and kisses me thoroughly and makes me forget and want him though I've just barely opened my eyes. I wrap my hands round his face and hold onto him tightly as he sits up under me, and we moan and groan and kiss while his hands roam up and down my back, dipping into every groove, tracing my spine. We've made love six times already – I've been counting – and every time it gets better and better. I accommodate him better; I'm more comfortable with him and with myself. I'm learning the ways he likes to move and the ways he likes me to move; I've become braver.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with myself for the next half year," I murmur while he sucks my earlobe into his mouth.

"Neither do I. You're like a drug I can't get enough of," he murmurs back in my ear, making me shiver. "Bella…_my_ Bella…"

His erection presses into my stomach, and he reaches sideways towards the nightstand, taking me with him as he grabs the box he's left over it. With quick and eager hands he puts a condom on and lifts my hips, sliding himself inside. We watch each other as I move over him, as our breaths come out raggedly. Our gazes are locked on one another even as the heat spreads all over my body. I cry out first, he follows soon behind.

"What time do you have to leave?" I ask him as I rest over him once more. I feel as if I've been in this exact position for days and I know I can stay this way indefinitely.

"In a couple of hours."

The atmosphere changes; it's as if reality is settling in, and we both realize at the same time that we can't remain in this little cocoon we've created for ourselves forever.

"There are a few things we need to do. You've got to give me your phone number, I need to program my number into your phone, and…there are a couple of things we need to talk about." He sounds nervous all of a sudden, which is strange because he hasn't seemed nervous once all weekend.

I nod slowly; every word he speaks reminds me of the impending separation I haven't allowed myself to think of all weekend. My chest tightens.

"And I need your last name, _Bella_." His voice is more playful now.

"What? We've made love about a hundred times in the past couple of days, and you still don't know my last name? That's dreadful," I tease him back, "and doesn't really speak well for either one of us."

I hear him chuckle, and the next thing I know, I'm pinned down against the mattress and Edward is over me, holding my arms up over my head.

"About a hundred times, huh? Bella, if that were the case, you wouldn't be able to walk for weeks. And your last name isn't exactly info I can gather through osmosis. Come on, let's go take a shower and by the time we get out, you'd better tell me your last name before I have to start looking through your things."

We laugh together, and his eyes sparkle, and as I gaze into them I try to store this memory to keep me warm over the next few months.

I giggle heartily. "We'll see about that."

He growls loudly and quickly lowers his jaw to my neck and collar and proceeds to tickle me thoroughly. I'm laughing so hard I can barely breathe.

A mobile vibrates and I look to see if it's mine, but my phone is still and quiet over the nightstand. Rose has given up on me, I believe. Edward gets up and retrieves his trousers from the floor. His mouth forms a tight line and he rigidly shoves his mobile back in his trouser pocket.

It's vibrated a few times overnight, but he's either completely ignored it or simply shoved it back in his pocket.

I sit up over the bed, wrapping myself in the soft white sheets. "Edward, who keeps calling you?"

He runs a hand through his short hair. I get the feeling this is a habit of his.

With a sigh, he looks up at me. "It's my father. It's driving him crazy not having any idea where I am."

"Why don't you tell him?"

He sits at the edge of the bed, his clothing bundled in hand, and when he looks at me, his features are hard.

"He wouldn't understand this. He'd never accept that this is what I want."

I grip the sheet tighter. "Are you sure that this is what you want?"

His nostrils flare. "Yes. Aren't you?"

"Yes," I say quickly, "Of course I am."

Still, there's so much I want to ask - like why his father needs to accept what he wants, and why would this be so wrong to him? How does this affect any other plans his father might have for him?

Expression still grim, he says, "Bella…there are…_things_…I have to tell you…"

His face abruptly changes; softens, and he takes me by the hand and guides me off the bed.

"But first things first."

"Edward, I'm naked!" I squeal, dragging the sheet with me.

"We're going in the shower. You're supposed to be," he smirks, right before picking me up and cradling me in his arms, running us towards the bathroom while laughter follows.

In the bathroom, he unwinds the sheets from me as we touch and kiss, and I know where this is leading; where everything has led this weekend - and it's perfect. It's more than sex. I never imagined it could be this way. Edward's hands get lost in my hair, and then they're on my hips, and his mouth curves around my shoulder and everywhere.

"Tell me nothing else matters, Bella. Tell me it'll always be this way."

His voice is pleading, his mouth and hands demanding.

"It will always be this way, Edward," I promise him. "_Always_…"

He reaches out and turns on the shower, and we move towards it-

-and from his haphazardly thrown trousers on the floor comes another vibration, another call.

Edward sighs heavily. "Hold on a sec. It might be Emmett this time. I called him before to…"

The expression on his face when he looks at his mobile this time is completely different from what has appeared every other time this weekend. For one second, he looks utterly horrified, as if he's just been caught committing a capital crime. His mouth forms a tight line, but when he looks up at me, his face has gone blank.

"I've got to take this."

"Okay."

I walk into the shower, a bit bewildered, but the water is warm on my skin, and I'm still on a high from Edward's touch. When five minutes turn to ten and Edward hasn't returned, I finish soaping myself up, rinse the shampoo and conditioner out of my hair and wrap myself in a towel.

When I step out of the bathroom, Edward is sitting on the bed with his back to me, shoulders stiff and rigid. I approach him quietly and in a brave moment discard the towel and slink up behind him on the bed. I lay a hand on his shoulder and kiss the nape of his neck, but when he turns around my heart drops to my feet.

He gazes at me through cold, unfamiliar eyes – and then simply turns back around.

All at once I'm both terrified and mortified. I jerk back, dropping my hand from his shoulder and wrap the wet towel round me once more.

"Edward? What's wrong?"

He doesn't answer straight away. In fact, we simply sit there, with me kneeling behind him and his back to me for about a full five minutes before he sighs heavily. All the while, my heart is hammering against my chest.

"Bella…there's something I have to tell you." His voice is cool and clinical, lacking any of the warmth that's been there over the past couple of days.

"Alright," I prompt when he's quiet again.

"I'm…engaged."

It takes me a couple of minutes to actually register the words, and when I do I find myself wondering if they mean something different in American English than what they do in British English.

"Her name is Tanya," he finally continues, his back still to me as he speaks. "Tanya Martin. We've been dating since right before I joined the military. Her father…her father is Senator Aro Martin. I'm not sure if you've heard of him."

He pauses, and it feels as if he's giving me time to absorb what he's saying, and I try, I really do, but my head is suddenly spinning.

"Anyway, our families have been friends for decades. Senator Martin is running for President in the next election. Everyone expects him to win; he's a sure bet, you can say. Politically, it's a great move."

I feel completely lost; bewildered. I don't understand why he's telling me about this Senator Martin's political ambitions. Why would I give a bloody fuck?

But then it slams into me – _hard_ - like a bus I never saw coming.

He's not telling me that politically it would be a great move for the senator – but that _his_ relationship with this Tanya is a great move for _him_, because of who her father is, because of what he wants.

All at once, the hammering in my chest stops, quickly replaced by a dull, painful ache that radiates like a red, glowing light. I feel as if I may vomit, but I force down the bile at the base of my throat and grip the towel tighter to me.

"What…what are you going to do?"

Finally, _finally_ he whips his head around and looks at me, but the eyes that meet mine are dark and narrowed and foreign – and so different from before.

"Bella…it's just not that simple…"

I have no idea how to respond except to stare at him, embarrassed and scared and ashamed because all of a sudden he looks like a stranger, and I'm in nothing but a towel.

I force myself to speak. "Well…"- I swallow - "How are you going to tell her about us?"

He holds my gaze. "Bella, Tanya is…Tanya and I…" – Abruptly, he simply looks defeated, nothing at all like the strong, confident man I met just two days ago. His shoulders slump heavily. – "I made her a promise and I can't…" – he tries to grip his short hair – "I have _responsibilities_ that I can't go back on. This is more than just about myself or about what I may want."

"You made me promises too." The words tumble out in a whisper.

He closes his eyes, shaking his head.

Stupidly, I try once more, because I know I _must_ be misunderstanding him. "You said…you just told me…you just asked me if it would always…"

When he opens his eyes, I can't understand how I ever ended up here, in this swanky hotel suite with him. As I stare at his blank, unflinching expression, there is _nothing_ in him that I recognize. He's a complete stranger.

I gasp loudly, feeling as if my lungs, my heart, every organ is about to collapse and the only thing I know at that moment is that I don't want it to happen here, not in front of this perfect stranger. Edward's eyes widen. The blankness disappears and he suddenly looks horrified, but I'm already in action. I whip around to where my clothes are lying in a pile on the floor and hastily throw on my denims and my t-shirt, holding my knickers and bra in my hand.

"Bella, wait, please. Just…just calm down for a second so we can..."

He keeps talking, but blood pounds so heavily between my ears that his voice sounds muffled and far away and I can't and don't want to hear what he's saying.

"Bella, I…" – he runs his hand through his hair again, wrapped in the bed sheets while I search the room frantically for my jacket and bag. When I find them, I throw on the jacket and shove my underwear in the bag, swinging it over my shoulder. All the while he follows me, wrapped in the sheets we made love on just a short while ago.

"Bella!" he bellows.

I stop.

I stop and look at him. He's standing just a couple of inches from me, chest heaving, eyes wild. I wait and wait, yet he says nothing, merely stands there looking so bloody sorry.

With my eyes locked on his, I reach for the dog tags that are still hanging from my neck and throw them back in his face. His head whips to the side and the I.D. tags land on the floor with a muffled thump. When he looks down at me once again, that look of apology is still in his eyes.

I don't want his pity. I don't want his apology. I will _never_ want either from him.

"_Bella…_Bella I l-_"_

Tears sting my eyes. "Go to bloody hell, you sodding wanker," I hiss shakily.

Then I turn around and run through the suite, towards the door.

"Bella, wait! Damn it, where are my clothes? Bella, wait! Please! Just let me find my- _FUCK_, WHERE'RE MY CLOTHES?" he roars.

I don't wait to hear the rest. The lift is there already, and I get on. It goes straight down to the lobby where I break into a sprint and lose myself in St. James Park. When I finally manage to find my way out, I take the tube back home.

Back to reality.

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**A/N: Hold on, let me get on my thickest set of armor yet before I ask for your thoughts. Okay, got it.**

**Thoughts?**

**So I updated today instead of tomorrow because a) Tomorrow is Good Friday and I feel as if I shouldn't update on Good Friday; b) Saturday is my little Zombie Apocalypse prophet's birthday so I'll be too busy to update then; and c) Sunday is Easter Sunday and I'll be busy then too.**

**So here you go, one day early. Don't know if I should say "you're welcome," or "I'm sorry."**

**Another quick FAQ Session: **

**Q: Why did Bella make such a derogatory comment regarding "everyday" women?**

**A: Bella was NOT trying to diss the "everyday" woman with her comment. Edward had just insulted her and implied that she couldn't reach the top on her own merit. She was simply trying to tell him that wherever she ended up had nothing to do with him.**

**Q: How could Bella plan to expose the truth of their daughter in a magazine?**

**A: Bella made it very clear in Ch. 5 that she is NOT planning to expose the truth about their daughter in the magazine. That was NEVER her plan, as she tells Rosalie in Ch. 5, and reiterates more or less to Edward in this chapter. She tells him she's going to write an article based on her findings from the week they'll spend together, so she's NOT planning to write anything scathing in the article other than what goes on this week.**

**Q: How could Bella use her daughter as revenge towards Edward?**

**A: Okay, while at first, she wanted to tell Edward about their daughter to hurt his political ambitions, she clearly HASN'T been able to get herself to do that, though she's already had a couple of opportunities, and in the last chapter realized that Ellie is a blessing, not a punishment, and won't expose the truth about her to Edward as if she were 'retribution.' That's why she's decided to wait until after this coming week to tell him. I apologize if that wasn't clear.**

**Q: Why would Edward let Bella write the article about him on her terms?**

**A: I'll let you guys work out the first part of that answer on your own, but just want to remind you that he is a U.S. Congressman. Let's be honest, once he gets the courtesy copy Bella has promised him before it goes to print, if there's something in there he doesn't like, it's not getting published.**

**Alright, just wanted to clear up those 4 main comments that kept coming up. Thanks!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	9. Ch 9 - Capitol Hill, Washington, DC

**A/N: The Cullen Legacy has been nominated for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand!**

**Voting will be open for a couple more days. If you feel so inclined, go take a look and vote for your faves! :)**

**triple w dot tehlemonadestand dot net**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer**

**Betad by my chickie Michelle Renker Rhodes**

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Capitol Hill, Washington, D.C.**

**Now:**

As promised, the next day Austin's credentials are waiting with federal security officers at the entrance to the white domed Capitol Building. We place our equipment through the conveyor belts, remove shoes and jewelry, and are quickly ushered to where Congress has begun a three-day session.

We take our seats quietly in the back with the media, and then Austin, stealthy as a cat, prowls around the allowed areas of the Congressional chambers taking hundreds and hundreds of pictures. He's quite excited to be the photographer for this piece on Congressman Edward Cullen – whom I spot immediately by the way, though I can only see his back from here. Amid a bunch of bland, brown and blue tired suits, his dark tailored suit is like a bright, smooth pebble in the midst of an ocean of pale, course rubble.

I spend about an hour polishing up the portions of the piece that I've already started. I've been working on it with information I've gathered through proper research that did not involve a romp round a hotel room. It's just a start, a skeleton, and it will be changing drastically once the week takes off and as I watch him do his thing, tell his public lies as opposed to private ones, and after I interview with staff, friends and fellow party-members who will probably spew the same bullshit party lines over and over.

Poor Congressman - out of all his admirers who could've been assigned to write such a detailed piece on him, it had to be me, probably the one person in the world who can see through his lies.

Though I must admit, it is pretty exciting from a clinical point of view. I'm writing a piece on Congressman Edward Cullen, the man who has the U.S. - as well as much of the political western world - captivated by his good looks, charm, charisma, seeming dedication to the issues that really matter, and ability to truly reach the masses. It's no wonder that the congressman is being compared to the great JFK – that he is already being hailed as the future president.

Right, that there becomes my opening sentence for now.

_But there's so much more that isn't known about Edward Cullen – not the Congressman, but the man behind the politics._

I snort to myself and play around with it all for a while, changing words here and there, adding and subtracting. I _will_ be fair, as I promised, but I _won't_ play into the messiah image the country appears to have of him.

Occasionally, I look up to see what's going on around me; Austin is like a little boy stuck inside a candy shop; Edward sits quietly at a table, the angle of his head indicative of his total engrossment on what his fellow distinguished gentleman is saying.

They're currently debating legislation to increase flood insurance to help those hurt by a recent storm that hit the east coast. There are representatives both for and against the legislation on both sides. I pay as much attention as possible while scanning my document-

-and then the entire room goes silent.

Well, it's not a noisy room to begin. Other than the gentleman who was just speaking, there are very few additional sounds to be heard.

But this is a different kind of silence. This silence is born out of respect, out of admiration, out of expectancy for _more_; it's almost suspenseful in a thrilling way I could've never imagined.

"The Gentleman from New York," the Speaker introduces Edward.

While Edward speaks, all eyes are on him. There is none of the squirming, of the boredom, of the monotony that there was before him. And there's so much passion, so much belief in his speech that when he's done, there's no possible way anyone can disagree with him.

Ten minutes later, when the motion is put to a vote, all are 'yeas.'

OOOOOOOOOO

The morning goes by in a whirlwind of political activity. When the House calls a two hour recess, Austin and I gather our things.

"Ms. Swan," Edward greets me as Austin and I discuss our plans for the rest of the afternoon.

I mentally draw in a deep breath and can only hope it's helped me appear calm because inside it does no use. My mind is still on that speech. When I look up and meet his eyes, I'm grateful that there's no way he can know the effect he's had on me.

"Congressman," I grin. "It was quite an interesting first morning."

He grins back smugly. "I'm glad you thought so. I'd hate to bore you so early into our week."

"I wasn't bored at all. You were quite in your element."

We hold each other's gazes.

I clear my throat. "Congressman, I'd like to introduce you to our photographer, Austin Marks."

Edward shakes hands with Austin, who looks as if he's about to pass out from the honor. They exchange small talk while I look about the room and swing my laptop bag in front of me.

"Ms. Swan," Edward says, his attention back on me, "do you have any questions for me so far?"

"I have plenty of questions, but as you directed yesterday, I'm holding them until the end of the day so as not to disturb you."

He smirks. "Well, it's lunch-time. There's a restaurant a few blocks from here where we can-"

"Thank you, but Austin and I were discussing the possibility of meeting with some of your staff during the recess. We just need your okay and directions to your office."

He stares at me. "I'm sure we can make arrangements, Ms. Swan. Follow me, please."

He puts one hand on the small of my back and begins to lead me out of the chambers, down to the blue-carpeted floor and through the large double doors. Behind us, I hear Austin fast on our heels. When the tips of his fingers remain on my back I start squirming and his hand drops away.

"Would you like to walk or should I call a cab? It's just a couple of blocks."

"I can walk, Congressman. I can walk quite a bit."

He nods and quietly leads the way down wide streets that allow a clear foot of space between us. It's so different from the last time we walked down streets together – when some part of him touched or held some part of me at all times. I wonder if he even remembers any of it with anything other than some vague recollection. There's nothing in his demeanor to indicate that he does. His gait is easy and controlled, eyes trained straight ahead.

When he speaks, his voice is cool and composed. "Who exactly would you like to speak with, Ms. Swan?"

I'm grateful that he's keeping things professional as we agreed yesterday in that restaurant. We'll keep things this way for the week and then when this is over, I'll tell him what I need to tell him.

"I was hoping to get a few minutes with your Chief of Staff if that's possible. I thought perhaps today would be a better day for that meeting before things get more hectic later on this week."

He nods, expressionless, eyes still straight ahead. "I don't think that should be a problem."

We finish our short, five-minute walk in silence, and then Edward moves ahead and opens a door for me. We walk into a large room with various people in varied states of action. They greet him with grins and obvious affection, throwing questions and comments at him left and right.

"I'll get back to you in a few minutes," he tells them all, and continues moving us forward. Another door leads to a smaller room; an office. Here, there are three people: a good-looking blond man behind a desk talking animatedly on the phone, a pretty, blond woman working away on a laptop over her knees, and the last, someone I'm starting to recognize easily - the tall, muscular bloke. He sits comfortably on a black couch, one leg crossed over his knee. I remember him from the fundraiser, from the restaurant yesterday, and from the pub seven years ago.

_Emmett._

"Edward," Emmett grins. His eyes travel from Edward to myself and then to Austin behind us. "How did the flood insurance vote go?" he asks.

"It passed," Edward responds, throwing his suitcase over the desk.

"'Course it did." Emmett nods, still grinning; his eyes fully on me.

Edward clears his throat and Emmett stands. "Emmett McCarty, I'd like you to meet Ms. Isabella Swan and Mr. Austin Marks. They're the team from ERA Magazine."

Emmett reaches out and takes my hand in his huge one, his grin somewhat bemused. "Ms. Swan, it's great to finally meet you."

"Mr. McCarty," I grin back wryly. "I feel as if we've already met – more than once."

He chuckles, neither confirming nor denying my statement and then shakes Austin's hand.

The woman stands up and walks over while swaying her hips in a way that I'm sure isn't meant for me while Edward continues the introductions.

"This is Kate Meyers, my press secretary."

We shake hands. "Ms. Swan, feel free to come to me first with any questions you may have."

"I've asked her to come directly to me, Kate," Edward corrects.

"Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything at all, please let me know." She eyes me speculatively before turning away.

The young bloke behind the desk finally hangs up the phone. He walks over with a pleasant smile and soft blue eyes crinkling at the corners. Tall and lean, he wears his suit almost as well as Edward wears his.

"And this is Jasper Platt, my cousin and Chief of Staff."

I shake Jasper's hand, offering him my most pleasant smile and seeing from his expression that unlike Emmett, he has no idea who I am. Why would he? It was so long ago and I never did give him my name.

But I shake all of that off for now. Those aren't things I should be focusing on at this moment.

"Ms. Swan, Edward has informed me that you and Mr. Marks will be joining us this week and I'd just like to welcome you to our team. You'll find that we're a very tight-knit group, and we're all pretty easygoing. I'm at your disposal for anything you may want or need."

I suppress a smirk. Of course they'll be at our disposal. They view this as the best free publicity Edward's campaign could've ever imagined.

"Thank you all very much. Mr. Platt-"

"Please call me Jasper. And may I call you Isabella and Austin?"

I agree while Austin mumbles his own agreement.

"Jasper, I was wondering if I could have about an hour of your time - for a quick interview?"

"That should be no problem. I was just about to step out for lunch. Would you like to join me?"

He picks up his suit jacket, which was draped over the chair.

"That sounds perfect, thank you." I look up at Edward, who's remained next to me.

"Congressman, is it alright if Austin spends some time photographing your staff?"

Edward nods slowly. "I have no problem with that."

"Thank you," I smile. "We'll talk later."

He doesn't answer right away, but when he does his voice is strangely soft, almost…wistful. "Enjoy your lunch, Ms. Swan."

OOOOOOOOOO

Jasper takes me to a restaurant a few blocks away. It's crowded with people wearing I.D.s round their necks and quite loudly discussing every facet of politics. D.C. is home to the U.S. Federal Government – you can't get away from the topic here.

We make small talk for a few minutes and then get down to business. Jasper is very helpful and easygoing. Our conversation is a mixture of easy banter and all those things that must be included in an editorial piece. He's twenty-seven, attended Georgetown Law right here in D.C., and is Edward's right hand man as well as his chief political and legal advisor. I ask a few questions and among other things find out that while in college, he interned for his Uncle Carlisle while he was still congressman, and that though he'd considered running for U.S. Representative himself, after discussing it with his Uncle, they came to the conclusion that he would better serve the country and his family by assisting Edward.

I suppress a snort. Carlisle Cullen seems to rule the entire Cullen clan.

"And you were okay with that, Jasper, with ceding your own political ambitions to help further Edward's?"

He grins indulgently. "Isabella, Edward's success is not only our entire family's success, but the country's as well."

I raise a brow and would bet my arse that's a direct quote from the elder Cullen.

By the end of our interview, I find that under different circumstances I may have actually liked Jasper. In my mind, I've built him up as another cold, heartless member of the Cullen Legacy. Yet it seems as if underneath it all, he may actually be a decent man. Still, the entire time he speaks I wonder if he ever told Edward about that phone call a few years ago - or if he simply disregarded it.

No, of course he didn't tell; there wasn't much to tell from his end, and I'd bet my arse that Carlisle had a word or two with Jasper afterwards. Besides, what difference would any of it have made anyway? As his own father once made very clear to me, Edward had already made his choice.

OOOOOOOOOO

When we arrive back at the Capitol a couple of hours later, Austin is excited because he's gotten some great shots of Edward with his staff, on the phone with constituents, and joking with fellow congressmen. It's an ace day so far for the photographer.

For the rest of the afternoon, I watch Edward sit quietly at his table while I work on my laptop, and Austin – finally taking a rest – sorts through his shots. When the day is called to an end, Edward approaches us again.

"So what did you think of the first day, Ms. Swan?"

"It was interesting, Congressman."

"I'm ready to go over those questions whenever you are."

We hold each other's gaze.

Austin moves close to me. "Isabella, I've got plenty for today. I'm just going to head back to the hotel and keep sorting through these."

I nod, my eyes still on Edward. "I'd like to stop in at my hotel also, to make a few phone calls and take care of some items. We can meet in a couple of hours if it fits your schedule."

"It fits my schedule just fine, Ms. Swan." He gives me the name of a restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue and we go our separate ways.

OOOOOOOOOO

Back at the hotel, I call Ellie straight away, hoping I haven't missed her with the time difference. Luckily, I catch her just as she's brushing her teeth, and we spend about twenty minutes laughing with each other over the computer. When I see how late it's actually getting, I begrudgingly tell her to go to bed. She tells me she loves me and plants a kiss on the screen. My hand is still touching the spot where her little face was even after the screen has gone blank.

I take a shower, and when I emerge, see that Michael has called. He didn't leave a message so I forego calling him back.

For a short while, I work on the piece, but no matter how I try to distract myself time keeps moving. I get up and get dressed, changing into a black, body-suit tank top, over which I wear a loose, georgette see-through cream blouse tucked into a long, slim, black pencil skirt that manages to flatter my bust with its high waist, as well as shows off my curves and slim waist. I finish up the outfit with a pair of patent-leather, cream-colored kitten heels.

When I arrive at the restaurant, I'm led to the back where Edward is waiting in a small, private room enclosed on three sides by frosted glass walls, lit only by the small candle on the lone table.

I only meet his eyes quickly as he rises to pull out my chair for me because he looks even more bloody handsome than he did earlier today, having changed into a casual pair of navy trousers, a white dress shirt and no tie, with a dark blazer hanging over his chair. I sit and pretend to adjust myself this way and that over the chair, placing the napkin over my lap, look around even though with the frosted glass there's not much I can see.

"You look…lovely tonight, Ms. Swan." His voice is smooth and even.

I don't bother to answer; instead I stare straight ahead.

He sighs quietly and adjusts his place settings. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was nervous.

"Isabella…I'd like to begin by apologizing once again for my comment yesterday. Not only was it completely uncalled for, but it couldn't be further from what I've ever-"

"Edward…" – I sigh – "we're here to work on the article. Nothing more and nothing less."

His jaw clenches tightly. "Very well, Ms. Swan. Would you like to order first or go over your questions?"

I pick up my menu, grateful for something with which to distract myself. "I'm actually quite hungry. Would you mind if we ate first?"

"Not at all."

We order, and then after our wine is served, an uncomfortable silence fills the small room. We're left with nothing to do but sip our wine slowly, eyes everywhere except each other.

I stare deep into my glass. "That…speech you gave today, Congressman…it surprised me."

Out of my periphery, I see him set his glass down. "Oh? And why is that, Ms. Swan?"

"I didn't expect it to be so…powerful…so impassioned." I snort. "But then again, I suppose it goes along with your image perfectly."

I meet his gaze. He's watching me with the same intensity he used to watch me with then, as if fascinated by every word I spoke – I speak.

He narrows his eyes. "It was a piece of legislation very important to me. Hundreds of thousands of Americans have either sustained an enormous amount of damage to their homes and property or lost them altogether, and because it occurred in a part of the country where we never expected nature to take that course, the insurance companies were happy to leave them without any relief, without any help or compensation. Those companies have assured those people that they'd be there to help if and when it was needed. I simply want to make sure that they comply with their responsibility."

'_I have responsibilities that I can't go back on.'_

I nod slowly. "Responsibility seems to be quite important to you."

"It is. I suppose you can say it's the cornerstone of my belief system – taking responsibility for one's actions."

"Regardless of the consequences?"

He draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Regardless of the consequences. Sometimes it's hard; it hurts, but...we as a people _have_ to be responsible, even if there is something we may want more."

"Something that you want more?" I grin wryly, taking a slow sip from my glass. "Tell me, Congressman, what is _your_ biggest, deepest desire?"

He moves in closer. "Is this on the record or off, Ms. Swan?"

"_On_ the record. _Everything_ this week is on the record."

He sits back against his chair, watching me with that same intensity. "Happiness, Ms. Swan. Happiness and peace. I want happiness and peace for myself; for everyone."

"And you believe that _you_ can provide this country with happiness and peace?" I sneer.

"No, Ms. Swan. I don't believe that I can _provide_ anyone happiness and peace. I'm a man not a god. Even in accepting responsibility I make mistakes. I regret things; actions, decisions..." He moves in close again. "But I _have_ to go on; I have no choice at this point, do I?" he murmurs with that same intensity. "Responsibility dictates that I go on and perhaps...perhaps by taking responsibility, I can at least help this country find _some_ peace and happiness."

"That's a wonderful little speech," I grin. "Very politically stimulating. What an inspirational world you must live in."

His face is smooth and impassive, and he says nothing for a few seconds.

"No, Ms. Swan. I don't live in an inspirational world. I live in a world that I fucked up for myself a long time ago, and now all I do is try to make the best with what I have."

His eyes…they look so sad all of a sudden, in so much pain. I'm reminded of the beautiful, intensely passionate man I thought I once knew; that I once trusted with my heart; _my_ happiness.

But he didn't exist. He didn't exist then, and he doesn't exist now.

Edward and his family are master politicians. Master liars.

I snort. "You're good."

"Am I?"

When our food arrives, we eat silently.

OOOOOOOOOO

The waitress returns to take away our plates.

"Would you like to see our dessert menu?" she asks Edward pointedly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Please ask the young lady," he tells her evenly.

I see the back of her head jerk back in surprise. She looks at me now, seemingly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Would you like to see the dessert menu?"

"No, thank you," I shake my head. "I'm quite done."

She smiles sheepishly. "Okay. By the way, I really do love your accent."

She's trying to earn her tip now.

I smile at her. "Thank you."

"I bet you get that pretty often."

My eyes meet Edward's. "You have no idea."

"So the check then?" she asks.

"Please give us a few minutes," Edward says, keeping his eyes on me.

When she walks away, he asks, "So were those all your questions, Ms. Swan?"

I shake my head. "No, I have a few more."

He smiles confidently and sits back again. "Go ahead then. Ask away."

I pull out the small pad and pen I brought with me and proceed to ask him a few of the questions that popped up while watching him today. He answers everything straightforwardly and completely. For a while, I'm engrossed in my job, in our conversation. Sipping my wine, I'm completely absorbed in what I love doing rather than in who this man I'm interviewing really is. It's peaceful and good, and for those precious minutes I completely forget that I once loved this man a lifetime's worth in one weekend – and that he made me believe that he did too.

When I look up at him though, it all comes back. I look into his sea-green eyes and see our daughter, and there's no way I can continue pretending, not for long. I'll give this piece my all because it's what I do. Besides my daughter, writing is my salvation. But when the week is over, I won't be able to keep this charade up.

I set my pen down. "Tell me, Congressman. Jasper is your Chief of Staff, and Kate is your Press Secretary. What job does Mr. McCarty hold on your staff?"

The smooth smirk he's been sporting disappears, and what appears is the blank expression he tends to wear when he doesn't want to give any more away than his words do.

"Mr. McCarty is a close, personal friend. He's not employed by either the government or my campaign, but rather by me personally as my security detail."

I raise a brow and take another sip of wine. "From what I've read and been informed, most Congress members _don't_ have a security detail. Rather that's reserved for the President, the Vice-President, and sometimes the Speaker of the House."

"You're correct about that." He picks up his wine glass and swirls it, gazing deep inside with a twitch of his lips. "You're very well informed on our political system, Ms. Swan."

"I've done my research."

He snorts. "Yes, I…know," he says quietly.

I sip my wine slowly. "Back to the issue. Has someone threatened to kill you then, Congressman?"

He laughs out loud and I can't help but join him, and it takes me back to that weekend, to all the times we laughed together.

"No, Ms. Swan. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no one's actually tried to kill me – yet." His mouth twitches with humor. "It's a bit of a complicated situation, but I'll try to explain it as straightforwardly as possible. My aunt Esme worries about me, especially in the past couple of years since my name's become more…prominent. She worries about what she calls crazy fanatics. And Emmett is a good friend of mine, someone I've known since my days in the service. He's in the security business, and needed a job. Having a security person put my aunt's mind at ease. So we killed two birds with one stone."

I nod slowly, enjoying this bit of information. It's juicy.

I take another sip of wine. "Off the record."

He raises a brow. "I thought nothing this week would be off the record."

"One quick exception."

He nods.

"Does _anyone_, other than he, know who I am?"

He holds my gaze and then shakes his head. With another sigh, he leans in closer to the table once more, closer than he's been all night. The glass or two of wine that I've consumed has compromised my posture, and apparently my care with distance, because unknowingly, I've been leaning into him too so that when he moves in further, our faces are mere inches from each other.

"Don't worry, Bella. Emmett would never say anything. As I said, he's more than just security, he's my best friend."

He searches my face, and I want to move away, I _need_ to lean away from him and his heat, but his breath is still so clean and fresh and I can see every shade and color in his eyes from here. I can see the way his chest heaves up and down, and it reminds me of when we'd make love and his breathing would be hard and erratic for _me_. His lips part and I see desire swimming in his eyes as they travel from my eyes to my mouth, and I remember. I remember _so_ much, _so_ bloody clearly…

"I'm not worried about that," I whisper, watching his lips.

"_Bella_…still _so_ beautiful, Bella." The sound of his velvet voice hypnotizes me. Our faces are so close I can almost feel his skin against mine. His warm, heavy breaths wash over me and I close my eyes, remembering…

"Of course you're not worried about that," I hear him murmur. "You're here threatening to destroy me. I wouldn't think you'd care what Emmett has to say."

I open my eyes. His expression isn't blank anymore, but it's a strange mixture of wariness and want, as if he can't decide whether he wants to wrap his hands around my neck, or his mouth around mine.

I chuckle humorlessly and back away, looking down into my glass again. "I think it's time we go back on record."

"Already?"

"Yes."

He snorts and leans away also.

"One more question, Congressman."

"Go ahead."

I take a deep, internal breath. "Your father, Carlisle Cullen, how involved is he in your political career?"

"He's not."

I frown. "But I thought he was the leader of the Cullen Legacy?"

His eyes fill with ice. "Not anymore, Ms. Swan. I listened to him in the past, yes, but…we have different views…different beliefs."

"When did you stop taking your father's…advice?"

"When I finally realized that it was leading me in a completely different direction from that which I wanted to go in."

"So you finally decided to be your own man? When did this occur?"

His eyes flash with indignation before boring into mine. "Does it really matter when it occurred, Ms. Swan? Does it make any sort of difference? By the time I became my own man, as you call it, I'd already made some life-altering decisions from which apparently I couldn't turn back. But I won't blame my father for my mistakes, Ms. Swan. It would be cowardly."

I wait for him to expand, but we simply sit there, holding each other's gazes.

"Is that it, Congressman?"

"That's it, Ms. Swan."

I purse my lips. "That would be quite a cryptic quote for a magazine article."

"I'll leave the wording up to you. I'm sure you're capable." His eyes pierce mine and he leans in close again. "Unless…you want to go off the record once more?" he murmurs.

My heart thumps painfully, but this is hurting too much, hitting too close to home. I shake my head.

"Are you done then?" he asks almost angrily.

"For tonight, yes."

"And tomorrow, Bella? What do you have planned for tomorrow? What secrets of mine do you plan on uncovering tomorrow for your article?"

He's being a smart-ass with me, treating me lightly, showing me how unaffected he is by me. My face feels hot from both anger and too much wine.

"Tomorrow, I'd like to discuss your time in the military-"

"Alright," he says coolly.

"-as well as your relationship with your ex-wife, Ms. Tanya Martin-Cullen."

All his smugness disappears in one breath, and I grin triumphantly.

"_Bella…"_

"I'd like to discuss as much of your love-life as you deem appropriate for this piece, Congressman, because let's face it, the public wants to hear about that as much as they want to hear about your views on health care reform and your ideas for balancing the national budget."

"What are you doing, Bella? I don't understand this game. Jesus," he runs a hand through his beautiful locks, "at least let me in on the rules."

"There are no rules, Edward," I hiss. "Apparently there never were. You didn't give me the rules then, I'm not giving them to you now."

With that, I pull my wallet out of my clutch and yank out a couple of hundred dollar bills.

"I invited you out to dinner, Bella. Put your damn money away."

"Very well," I say, putting my money back in my wallet. "That's the least you can do, I suppose."

"Let me take you back to your hotel, so you can rest," he hisses, standing when I stand. "You're in no shape to be out on your own right now."

"Hah!" I retort loudly and then cover my mouth, suddenly grateful for all the frosted glass.

"No way, Congressman, I'm not falling for either one of those again. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…"

His nostrils flare.

"Good night, _Edward_. I suppose I'll see you in the morning."

I manage to make it out of the restaurant before I feel the first tears of anger fall and wipe them away roughly. Too much bloody wine.

Luckily, a cab stops for me before I can even put my hand out to hail it, and when the large bloke dressed all in black moves quickly to open the door for me, I'm not even surprised by his presence.

"Thank you, Emmett," I smile as I climb into the back of the cab. "_You_, apparently know how to be a gentleman."

He chuckles, but it's a sad sort of chuckle, and he shakes his head as he closes the door, leaning into the open window.

"What are you trying to do to him, Bella? What are you trying to do to _yourself_?"

I don't answer him, and as the cab speeds away, his questions circle round and round my head.

* * *

**Thoughts?**

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	10. Chapter 10 - The Aftermath

**A/N: There WILL be EDWARD POVs coming up soon in this story! :)**

**THANK YOU ALL who voted for TCL over at The Lemonade Stand. We won! TCL will be featured as Fic of the Week next week. Go take a look if you can, and check out the write-up, I'm sure it'll be great. :)**

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* * *

**Chapter 10 – The Aftermath **

**Then:**

The sun pours in the through the windows of the small bedroom I share with Rosalie; rays of sunshine land over my body and warm me…

Poor, bloody substitutes they are - for his arms, for the warmth I only felt for one short weekend. I hold the blanket tighter round me, bury my head under it and pray silently that morning hasn't arrived, that it isn't time already for me to face another day. If the nights were longer and I could sleep more, if I had more blessed hours of nothingness, and if I dreamed dreams I couldn't remember, then maybe I could finally start feeling better, start feeling like the old Bella, like the girl who never lost so miserably at a game she hadn't even known she'd been playing-

-The alarm blares noisily, and I sit up straight away. A strange sensation starts at the pit of my stomach. It gradually makes its way up through my intestines, into my chest, and then my throat, and all at once the contents of my stomach threaten to come up the way they went in. I cover my mouth and jump out of my small, single bed, leaping right over Rosalie's –which is in my way – and pray I make it to the bathroom.

"Bella, what the bloody hell? You just stepped on me bum!"

I flip the loo cover up and expel last night's Chicken Tikka Masala straight in, every last bit – including the once toasty naan bread I soaked in the broth.

After a couple of minutes, Rosalie steps into the tiny bathroom, kneeling behind me, holding up my hair.

"Right, that's disgusting," she declares.

"Sod off," I moan in between vomiting.

She chuckles. "I just want to make sure you aren't dying. Renee would never forgive me."

"It's your bloody fault for taking me to eat Indian at two in the morning."

Another chuckle. "It's never upset your stomach before."

"Yes, well…I think there were too many spices in the chicken."

"Too many spices in the Indian? That's rubbish, you love spices."

"I'm telling you, it tasted off."

She's quiet.

Eventually my vomiting subsides and I stand up to brush my teeth, but my stomach still feels queasy.

"Are you alright then?" Rosalie asks.

"Yes, thanks Rose. I'm quite better."

We alternate bathing as we get ready for classes, but before I make it out of the bathroom, I vomit once more. Rose steps in again and finds me heaving over the sink.

"I think you'd better go on to classes without me."

"Are you sure?" I can hear the concern in her voice, apprehension beyond the vomiting. She's been worried about me for weeks now.

"I'm quite sure. Go on. I'll be along later if I feel better."

"I'll make you some tea before I go," she says quietly before closing the door.

OOOOOOOOOO

Eventually, I do feel good enough to leave the flat and make my way hastily to classes. I've missed the first two of the morning, but I make it just in time for Creative Writing, my favorite one of the day. Unfortunately, as I raise my hand to offer an opinion, a new wave of nausea hits me and I have to run out of class and find the nearest restroom, where I vomit as quietly as possible into one of the loos.

After that, I really do feel much better for the rest of the day, and I promise myself that I will never eat Indian at two in the morning again.

OOOOOOOOOO

After classes, Rosalie and I meet up again back at the pub where Leah and Jake are already getting everything ready for the afternoon and evening. I go on with my day as normal, serving fish and chips and bangers along with pints of lager to customers. I smile when called for, clean tables, count tips. I borrow Jake's office laptop in between customers and work on my assignments. I try not to watch the time too much – try not to wish my day away.

But it does finally end, and Leah and Rose and Jake and I hang about the flat and watch telly.

"Are you feeling okay lately?" Jake asks as he stands by the door to leave.

I smile at him because he's not such a bad bloke. At least I know where I stand with him.

"I'm fine Jake, thanks. Just been a bit tired lately what with classes and work."

"We can cut some of your hours if they're too much right now, and you can pick them back up when-"

"No!" I say quickly. "No. Thanks…" The last thing I need is more time on my hands.

"Well, okay," he agrees. "See you tomorrow then. Yeah?"

"Yeah, Jake. See you tomorrow."

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, I miss the loo by about a second and end up kneeling in my own vomit.

"More bad Indian?" Rose stands behind me and studies me through the mirror as I brush my teeth.

I spit into the sink and keep my head down as I answer.

"I think there might've still been some in my system."

She doesn't say anything. Instead she just lurks about for a few seconds before quietly getting in the shower.

The following morning, she holds up my hair for me again. I evade her eyes as I stand myself up to brush my teeth because I may not have been brought up with much money, but I've had a good education. I know better.

I _should've_ known better.

"Bella…"

I continue brushing my teeth, head down close to the sink.

"Bella, when was your last period?"

I spit into the sink and wipe my mouth and face with a towel. "I'm not pregnant."

"Bella…"

When I start crying into the towel, her arms wrap protectively round me.

"Oh, Love," she sighs.

OOOOOOOOOO

I hear the front door open. Rose is back from the store. I've been sitting on the closed loo the entire time she's been gone. Nauseous. In a daze.

I'm not pregnant. This is just stress. I've read this happens. As soon as I can calm down and start feeling better, my period will return. I just have to _calm down._

I'm taking deep, relaxing breaths as she steps into the bathroom with a small, paper bag in hand.

"Right, I've got it then."

She proceeds to pull out a box from the bag and open it, hastily discarding the sheet of instructions.

"So what you do is pee on the stick, and then we leave it alone for three minutes. If it's got one line, we're ace; if it's got two-"

I snatch the stick from her. "I'm not pregnant, Rose. This is just stress.

"Bella, even if he pulled out, some of his stuff could've still spilled inside you. You know this, Bella! I don't understand why you let him-"

"Fine! Fine!" I yell. "Spare me the lesson." I stand up and open the loo. "Turn around while I pee on this thing so you can see that I am _not_ pregnant!"

When I stare down at the stick three minutes later, I feel nothing. I'm not upset, or scared, or happy, or worried. There is just one big space of nothing that fills my chest, and I pray that I can keep this feeling because it's infinitely better than the constant ache that's been my companion for the past few weeks.

Rose is all business. "Right, what are we going to do?"

I turn round and splash water on my face. "_I'm_ going to class."

I feel her eyes on me. "Bella, are you going to tell him?"

She grabs my arm when I try to walk out of the cramped bath. "Bella!"

"He is off fighting a war somewhere, Rosalie. Besides, he made it quite clear that he had other priorities."

"Bella, he needs to take responsibility for this!"

I walk away from her and begin to mechanically get dressed for my day. "Rose, he has other responsibilities."

"But, Bella-"

"ROSE!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "He didn't want me! We had our fun then he remembered his other responsibilities, and that was that! _This_," I point to my stomach, "is _my_ responsibility now and no one else's!"

I turn away, blindly reaching into a drawer and pulling out the first jumper I find. When I flip it over my head I'm shaking so badly I can't even pull the bloody thing over without Rose's help. She looks at me evenly when my head pops out.

"Hey, you're not alone, okay? We're sisters, remember?"

She's been my best friend since we were six years old. On our first day of school, her drunk of a mum forgot to pick her up, so my mum brought her home with us. Mum must've rang Rose's house about ten times before her mum finally woke up. Since that day, she spent more time with us than she did at her own house. Yes, we _are_ sisters.

I nod quietly, but these bloody hormones must already be acting up because my bottom lip starts trembling, and when she pull me into a hug, I sob uncontrollably for about ten minutes straight.

OOOOOOOOOO

For the next few weeks, I do a pretty good job of pretending that nothing is wrong or different. The vomiting doesn't subside though, and I find that I miss more morning classes than I actually attend. There's also this strange, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach if I don't eat something every couple of hours. But I find that crackers tend to take care of both the hunger and vomiting issues, so I carry a sleeve of crackers with me everywhere I go and proceed with my day.

And I seem to especially fancy baked beans lately.

Luckily, that strange emptiness in my chest that appeared the day I saw two lines on the stick has more or less remained. Despite the fact that he's left me with a little souvenir, I find it easier not to think of him these past few weeks, easier to push the ache down low past my stomach, down to the soles of my feet.

Jake, Leah, Rose and I are on the train one Saturday, going back to Leigh because my mum has made a dinner in celebration of my twentieth birthday. Jake sits close to me, and I don't really mind it as much as I did. He gives me attention, and I think that along with baked beans, I may be craving that too.

Anyway, I'm reading a book while I hear Rose and Leah discussing whether Prince Harry is more of a ginger than this bloke Ian who Rose seems to be keen on, when I feel Jacob brush away a piece of hair that keeps falling in my face and blocking my view of the words before me.

I look up at him.

"Sorry," he smiles sheepishly, "It just looks like it keeps getting in your way."

"That's alright," I smile back. "Thanks." I look back down at my book.

"Bella…"

I pick my head back up.

"I…was wondering if you wanted to go out with me for your birthday. I mean, I know your mum is making you this dinner today, but I could have Leah watch the pub next Saturday and take you-"

His face falls, and I feel horrible. "Jake, you're a great bloke, but believe me," I snort, "you don't want to be involved with me right now."

"Why because you're pregnant?"

I jerk my head back. "How do you know that?"

He smirks. "Bella, I may be a man, but I see things going on around me, especially where they involve you. You're moody, throw up about five times a day, you eat all the time lately, but these small, weird meals, like baked beans for breakfast, lunch and dinner." He chuckles and despite it all I chuckle too.

"If I'm such an utter mess, why in bloody hell would you want to take me out to dinner?"

"I…just want you to let me be your friend. The baby's father…he's not in the picture, is he?"

I shake my head slowly, that ache threatening to come back up, but I swallow thickly and push it down to the soles of my feet again.

"Just let me be your friend, Bella. Everyone needs friends, don't they?"

He looks so sincere, his dark eyes wide open, but I no longer trust myself to recognize sincerity.

"Just don't ask me for more than friendship, Jake."

He shakes his head, but he looks close to elated. "I won't. So…dinner…yeah?"

I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Two and a half months ago this weekend, I was in a hotel suite, believing myself in a love so true it transcended time and class and family expectations and politics.

Stupid, stupid me. I did things so arse-backwards.

"Dinner sounds good, especially if I can have some baked beans with it?"

"Of course you can."

OOOOOOOOOO

We have a nice dinner round my mum's house – or rather the rest do. I can't seem to stomach meat lately. My mum has always been a pretty good cook, which was one of the things I missed after my dad died, and she could barely manage to get out of bed, much less make Alice and I nice dinners. Back then, it was up to me to get our meals ready, and poor Alice had to do with cucumber and cheddar sandwiches about twice daily, and a burnt roast if she was lucky on Sundays.

But for today, Mum prepared my favorite – or what used to be my favorite until a couple of months ago: A lovely roast with lots of juicy gravy, roast potatoes, carrots, and a brilliant Yorkshire pudding. For dessert she's made both Spotted Dick as well as a Custard Trifle. She also purchased a nice bottle of wine in celebration of the fact that I've left my teens behind.

Usually, I would be in heaven. This afternoon, I took two bites and tried not to puke it all up over the table.

Jake and Leah leave a bit after dinner, but Rose and I are sleeping over until tomorrow.

While Alice and I wash dishes, Rose helps my mum clean up the rest of the kitchen.

Alice and I are catching up and I feel quite guilty because I haven't been by to see them half as much as I usually do. But I'm still not sure how to tell them about the pregnancy.

Alice is telling me about school, about one boy in particular who keeps teasing her, and I'm trying to explain to her that boys tease and bother when they like you.

She's not having it. "He's simply a bloody wanker," is her opinion.

I look first at her then at my mum - who doesn't even look up from her cleaning.

"When I was your age," I smile, "I would've gotten me tongue pulled out of me mouth for using that type of language."

"Times change," my mom calls out. "Alice turned thirteen last month, Love."

"Thirteen! Oh, Al, I missed your birthday!"

"That's alright," she shrugs, not looking at me. "Mum says you're busy."

I feel the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. "I'm sorry, Alice," I mumble guiltily. "I _have_ been rather busy, but that's no excuse to..." I hug her tight, and the tears start streaming down my cheeks.

"Bella, it's quite alright!" she assures me. "You can give me a gift next time you come!"

I chuckle, still crying. Rose looks up from scrubbing the stove and gives me a look at the same time that my mum picks her head up and catches it.

My heart starts racing in my chest.

"Alice, Love," I say, "I owe you a big, beautiful gift, but for now why don't you do us a favor and let Mum and I have a quick talk?"

"Come on, Alice," Rose says, walking over and taking Al by the hand. "Let's go see if we can copy some of Beckham's moves out in the backyard, yeah?"

Alice looks like she knows she'll be missing some juicy bits if she takes one step, but Rose pulls her along anyway.

Once Rose and Alice leave, my mum and I stare at one another.

"Well, let's have it then, Love."

"Mum…I…I'm…Mum…"

"Are you trying to tell me that you're pregnant, Bella?"

I shut my eyes tightly for a few seconds, waiting for her anger. "Bloody ell, do I have it written cross my face or something?"

She shocks me by chuckling and then takes a seat, signaling for me to join her.

"You might as well have. It does show all over your face, Love. You haven't been around much lately, you've been dodgy on the phone, and you turned positively green at the dinner table! You've always loved my roast, darling! And you didn't have any of _your_ birthday wine!" she chortles, as if I've just given her the most hilarious piece of news.

That's the thing with my mum. Only one thing ever gutted her, and it must've gutted her so badly that nothing else can ever upset her that much again.

But here, in this small kitchen with her, everything hits me and the blessed mask of nothingness suddenly disappears, rises from the soles of my feet and settles itself into my chest once again, leaving me feeling terrified and bewildered - and so bloody alone.

My lip starts to quiver, and I look down at my lap to hide it.

"Oh, Darling," my mom says softly and when her arms go round me, I wrap myself around her as if I were still a tiny, little girl and sob into her neck.

"Mum, what am I going to do?"

"I get the feeling you've already decided that bit."

I nod because that was never a question. Yes, I believe in choices, and this was always going to be the way I chose.

"Is the father around?"

I shake my head and cry harder, missing Edward so bloody much, wanting it to be _his_ arms round me, _him_ holding me and telling me that it's going to be alright the way my mum is currently doing. It _should've_ been him. _This_ is his bloody responsibility not some woman called Tanya, not his quest to be the leader of the free world, but his…_baby_.

Bloody ell, this is a _baby_! "Oh dear God, I'm having a _baby_!"

Mum snorts. "There, there, Love." She pulls me away enough to look in my eyes. "Have you told him?"

I shake my head slowly.

"Why in the world not?"

"He's from…a different world from me, Mum. He has a huge set of responsibilities that don't include me or…" – I stroke my stomach.

"I think you should let him decide that."

"He's already decided it, Mum, in his own way. _Nothing_ is more important than his current responsibilities."

"Oh, I don't believe that. What can be more important than a _baby_?"

We both sit quietly for a long time, but she doesn't push me for an answer.

"Mum…I'm so lost. I feel so…_alone_." I start crying again, and my mum pulls me into her arms once more.

"There, there. You'll be alright, Love, and regardless of whether the child's father is around or not, you _won't_ be alone. You've got me and Rose and your little sister – who is going to love being an aunt, by the way; that right there can be her beautiful birthday present. You've also got those nice friends of yours who came to dinner tonight. Darling, you _won't_ be alone."

"I never wanted to disappoint you…or Dad," I say quietly. "Or to be a bad example for Alice…"

She smiles at me tenderly. "Bella, Love, you could never disappoint your father or me. You've always made us proud, and you will continue to make us proud. After knowing the pain of losing such a beautiful soul like your father, do you really think the news that you're bringing another beautiful soul into this world could disappoint me?"

I smile hesitantly.

"Besides, you're not a child any longer, Bella. And you're not a bad example for Alice. I hope she grows up to be just as loving and kind and wonderful as you are, my love. Now if Alice, who's just turned thirteen, came and told me that she was pregnant, that might be an issue."

She laughs at her own unthinkable joke.

OOOOOOOOOO

_Edward is back, dressed in desert-toned camouflage army fatigues. I tell him about our baby, and his beautiful, emerald eyes light up. He kneels before me and wraps his large hands round my stomach, and then kisses it tenderly._

When I wake with a gasp, I find Rose and I sharing my double bed, just the way we used to when she'd leave her mum's house in the middle of the night when her mum was in the middle of a bender. I shake her awake.

"What is it, Bella? Are you feeling alright?"

"I've got to tell him."

She nods, knowing exactly what I mean.

"Do you know how to get in touch with him?"

I shake my head. "All I know is that he's in the army. I don't remember the unit or any of that other information."

"Perhaps we can check online, yeah?"

We spend the next few hours of early morning between Rose's laptop and the phone. Though we manage to find a handful of numbers to call over in the States, hours and hours of calls get us absolutely nowhere. I'm asked for his unit, his date of birth, his social security number, his serial number, his last known base – all information I probably _should've_ known before getting to this point. But I don't. I'm told privacy laws prevent the military from giving out its personnel's last known address. Either no one can or wants to give us information on how to reach Edward.

"Bloody arseholes," Rosalie mutters after hanging up on our latest attempt. "Right," she sighs, putting her hand reassuringly over mine, "perhaps it's time we try contacting someone in his family, Bella."

I bite the inside of my lip. The thought of contacting his family makes me nervous. But I need to tell him; let him decide whether he wants to be a part of his child's life or not; whether he'll pursue Tanya and his career once his tour of duty is over – or whether he'll come back here first.

As soon as she has my nod of consent, Rosalie types in "Carlisle Cullen," and "U.S. Congress." I've told Rosalie absolutely everything from beginning to end that went on that weekend. She knows as much about Edward's family and their aspirations as I do.

I watch as the results show up in the next fraction of a second. The first appears to be a government web-site with contact information for U.S. Representatives, among them Carlisle Cullen.

With shaking hands, I pick up the phone while Rosalie watches me quietly.

"Congressman Carlisle Cullen's office. This is Jasper, how may I help you?"

"Hello?"

"Yes?"

My voice shakes. "Hello, I…"

"Yes, this is Congressman Cullen's office. How may I help you?"

"I…" – I squeeze my eyes shut tight – "I…I need to speak to Edward Cullen."

"Hello? I'm sorry, I'm afraid we have a bad connection. Can you repeat that?"

Rose nods at me encouragingly. "Go on, then," she whispers.

"I need to get a message to…I need contact information for Edward Cullen?"

There's silence for about five seconds. "I'm sorry, but this is Representative Carlisle Cullen's office. Did you say you're looking for _Edward_ Cullen?"

"Yes," I say in a clearly quivering voice. "I need to…contact him."

Silence again. "If you're requesting information on our military program, you'll have to contact the Department of-

"No! No," I repeat more calmly. "I need contact information for _Edward_ Cullen. It's very important."

Another long pause. "Please hold on."

"Okay."

I'm on hold for what feels like hours before the bloke finally comes back on the line.

"Yes, if you'll give me your name and contact information, I'll make sure that he gets the message."

"I'm sorry, but I need to speak to him directly."

"I'm sorry, Miss, but I can't give out his information. Now if you'll give me your-"

"_Please_. I just need to speak to him quickly."

Another voice, much gruffer, suddenly comes on the line. "Jasper, step out of the office and give me a minute."

There's a few more seconds of silence.

"Yes, this is Carlisle Cullen."

The voice is pure ice. With merely five words, I'm as intimidated as I was when Edward first told me about his father.

Still, I force myself to respond. "Yes, I…I need to speak to Edward."

"Who is this?"

"I'm…" - Rose shakes her head at me - "It's quite important that I speak to Edward directly. If you wouldn't mind giving me his contact information, I'd really appreciate it."

Rose nods her approval at the sudden formality and confidence in my tone and accent.

On the line, there is one long space of silence, but I can still hear Edward's father's harsh breaths.

"Again, who exactly is this, and what's so urgent that you need my son's contact information while he's off fighting a war?"

"There's something…important that I need to tell him," I respond.

"Well, why don't you just tell me?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I really do need to speak to Edward directly."

Another long pause of silence.

"I've got to say, if Edward knows you and didn't give you his contact information, don't you think there was a reason?"

I push down the humiliation that seeps through me at his barbed dig. "Please, Mr. Cullen, I need to speak to your son. As you said, it's a matter of urgency."

"Urgency," he repeats coolly. "May I ask what's so urgent?"

"As I said, it's rather personal."

"_Personal_," he reiterates, making the word sound like an obscenity. "Excuse me, but you do realize that my son is engaged, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"But you still wish to speak to him about your urgent business. You realize that he's been engaged for almost a year now?"

The disclosure hits me like a ton of bricks. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach, which I brush protectively. "I…I didn't know it had been that long…"

"You didn't know," he repeats flatly. "Is that the line you plan to go with, then? That you didn't know?"

"The line?"

"When you go to the media with this little story about _urgent business_ and how you didn't know that the Congressman's son was engaged to the Senator's daughter. You were completely innocent."

"I…" – my voice quivers, all feigned confidence gone – "I'm not quite sure what you're saying."

"I think you know exactly what I'm saying. I think we both know _exactly_ what we're talking about."

He's silent again while my heart hammers so loudly I can hear it pounding in my head.

"I'll be a bit blunter if you need me to be. Whatever you seem to think _your _urgent business is, Miss, it's _your_ urgent business, and I strongly suggest that you take care of it – quickly. I also suggest that you think twice about trying to contact my son again. He and I have been working towards our goals for a long time, and neither of us will hesitate in defending our name if you attempt to taint it with lies for profit," he hisses.

"I'm not telling any lies," I cry quietly.

"No? Well then you'd better be prepared for quite a battle, Miss, if you try to spread any sordid story to the public. My son chose his path a long time ago and has never, and _will_ never waver from it."

I sob openly and loudly, clutching the phone while Rosalie struggles to take it away.

"Hang up, Bella," she hisses. "Just bloody hang up!"

But I can't. It's penance for my stupidity.

"If he ever befriended you and you misunderstood that friendship, then that's your fault and your fault alone, and neither Edward nor I will stand for lies and accusations! So before you even think of trying to destroy our name, you'd better be prepared for quite a battle where _all_ of you and your family and friends' dirty laundry will be aired in-"

I hang up.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**There are about three or four "Then" chapters left, one of which is in E's POV, before we are completely in the present. I know a bunch of you wanted to know. **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	11. Ch 11 - The Bar, Washington, DC

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your varied thoughts on this story. Love hearing from you guys, even when you get frustrated with either one characters or the other. I know it's a difficult subject that raises lots of questions and opinions. :)**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes helps me keep all this straight.**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Ch. 11 – The Bar, Washington, D.C.**

**Now:**

The next morning in D.C. proceeds much as the first did. Austin and I spend the first half of the day behind congressional chamber doors; he's taking more pictures of Edward, while I'm simply observing him – the way the lights from above play with the copper strands of his hair, capturing the different shades every time he moves, the way he rolls his shoulders every fifteen minutes or so to keep from being still as a statue, the way his dark suit molds around those shoulders crisply. When he stands to speak again, the room once more goes respectfully silent, and the result of this day's vote – once Edward has made his passionate proclamation – goes the same as yesterday: all yeahs.

It seems that the man cannot go wrong. I write about the implications of this. What does it mean when a country's citizens are so taken with an individual? Can they see his flaws? Are they willing to accept that he may possibly have some, or is his undeniable charisma all that they're willing to observe?

One cannot deny, though, that he cares about what he speaks; it's in his voice, in its depth, in his serene yet passionate countenance. Yes, that's what it is; he's _passionate_. It's this passion for the issues that resonates with the people in this room, and with those who see him speak outside of it. When was the last time this country saw such passion? Can you blame a people for falling in love with a man who displays such fervor and intensity in everything he does both in his work and in his private life?

No, you can't blame _anyone_ for falling in love with that zeal.

When Congress breaks for afternoon recess, Edward comes to meet us.

"Congressman, I was hoping we could take a few minutes to-"

"Ms. Swan, I'm sorry, but I have a couple of closed committee meetings to attend this afternoon. Jasper will be more than happy to assist you with anything you need for the next couple of hours."

I sigh and look down at my watch.

"Very well, I'll just head over to your office then. Perhaps later this afternoon we can-"

"I'll let you know, Ms. Swan. I might have a couple of other meetings later on today."

"Alright," I say slowly. "We'll play it by ear."

He nods, his eyes shifting from side to side. "I'll be in contact."

And then he's off.

OOOOOOOOOO

Austin and I make our way back to the Congressman's office. As promised, Jasper is more than helpful, allowing us the use of one of the empty rooms to set ourselves up. There's a desk and a couple of chairs, and as we plug in our equipment, Jasper asks us to make ourselves comfortable.

Austin goes off to take a few more pictures of the staff, and I take a walk around the office myself, interviewing a couple of interns, both have nothing but glowing words for their employer. As I'm leaning against a wall and writing down my thoughts, a flowery scent of perfume wafts my way.

"Ms. Swan, is there anything I can help you with?"

I look up at Edward's press secretary.

"Thank you, but I'm quite well for the moment." I offer her a quick smile and look back down.

She doesn't leave.

"Is there anyone you'd like me to call over for you?"

I sigh internally and look back up at her. "Thank you, but I've got it."

Her red-stained lips appear to stretch tautly over her mouth. "I think it would be a good idea if you consulted with me before approaching any of the staff."

I drop my notepad and pen down to my sides and stand up straight – not a very impressive height, but my posture gets my point across.

"Kate, was it?"

She nods stiffly.

"Kate," I smile flatly, "Jasper, as well as your boss himself, gave me the impression that I am free to speak with whomever I please and that if I do need to check on something I should consult either Jasper, or _Edward_ himself."

Her nostrils flare. "Yes, but _I_ am the _Congressman's_ press secretary, and as such, I think any issues-"

"Kate, calm down."

I turn away from Kate and glance up at Emmett's smirking face. He's got his lips pursed at her, and when he looks at me, he rolls his eyes in a "she's a ridiculous bitch" sort of way, making me grin.

"Emmett," – she says his name through clenched teeth – "this is a press issue, not a security issue."

"Regardless, Kate, Edward didn't ask you to monitor Isabella while she does her job, did he?"

She narrows her mouth, lips drawn in a straight line, and shakes her head.

"Alright then," Emmett grins.

Kate huffs angrily and walks away.

"She's just very loyal to Edward," Emmett says once she's out of hearing range.

"Oh, I'm sure she is," I drawl meaningfully.

"Bella…" He says my name reproachfully, but I'm surprised to hear him call me that at all, though I shouldn't be, should I? When I look at him, he's got the distinct look of someone who wants to say more.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asks.

"No."

"Come on."

OOOOOOOOOO

We end up at a steakhouse on Constitution Avenue right here in Capitol Hill, and sit surrounded by well-dressed politicians and lobbyists as well as waiters dressed as sharply as those they wait on. Emmett settles on the Tuna, and I go for the sirloin that he recommends.

"So tell me about yourself," he grins impishly as we cut into our respective dishes. He's got dark blue eyes that seem to be constantly amused and a ruggedly handsome, honest face. Then again, I've thought that before.

He wasn't lying about the steak though; it's absolutely brilliant.

I raise a brow. "Tell you about myself? I thought I was interviewing you."

"Is that what this is?"

"What else would it be?"

Those impish eyes laugh at me, not in a spiteful way though, so I simply chuckle back and figure there's no harm in playing this game for a while. I take another bite of my smooth, silky steak and swallow.

"I'm from the outskirts of London. My father was a policeman, my mother is a teacher. I have a younger sister. I attended University in London, and…then I got a job in Michael Newton's corporation."

He listens intently. "You seem to have risen quickly in Newton's corporation, Bella." His tone is full of curiosity rather than accusation - unlike when Edward accused me of sleeping my way to the top.

"I'll admit I've been lucky – though I'll also say I've worked hard. Michael has taken me under his wing and I won't deny there've been benefits to that."

"So there are benefits?" he smiles, leaning back in his chair.

"There are _always_ benefits _and_ drawbacks," I smile back. "But Michael is a good friend as well as an excellent businessman. I'm nowhere I don't deserve to be. With him, I know exactly where I stand."

He holds my gaze as if he wants to ask more, but recognizes the limits of this game.

"Enough about me, Emmett, let's talk about you."

He studies me once again, but then leans forward and pops a piece of tuna in his mouth. "What about me?" he asks once he's swallowed.

"How long have you known the Congressman?"

He raises a brow. "I think you know the answer to that, Bella."

I chuckle humorlessly. "I'm afraid I know a lot less than you seem to think I do, Emmett."

He takes another bite of his tuna, obviously enjoying the bloody hell out of it.

"I've known Edward for almost ten years. I met him during our time in the military. I was assigned to his unit." There's a pause. "He saved my life."

I almost choke on the silky steak in my mouth. After taking a long sip of wine, I say, "Pardon?"

He snorts. "You didn't know _that_, did you?"

I shake my head, wide-eyed.

He takes one more huge bite before setting his utensils down; his smiling eyes are no longer smiling.

"We were stationed in Afghanistan, in a small town by the border with Pakistan. Our unit's job was to dismount explosives the other guys would leave for our boys and other innocent people on the roads."

"That's not-" I interrupt, remembering. "That's not what he once told me. He told me you guys cleared roads and…" I stop and snort to myself when I realize what that meant, even without Emmett's helpful raised brow.

"One night, we were in the middle of a job," Emmett continues, "when we were attacked by enemy snipers. They got a couple of our guys, and had another guy and I cornered by the side of our Humvee. We'd run out of ammo, and if we tried to move, they'd shoot. The sergeant, _Edward_," he explains, "came and got us even though he was pretty safe where he'd been, even though those snipers kept shooting at him left and right."

A shudder runs through me as I picture the Edward I once knew dismounting explosives in the middle of an enemy road with snipers wanting to blow off his head from every direction.

"He stayed there with us for hours, fighting off those snipers. By the time dawn broke, we were all out of ammo. They were coming closer, so Edward created a diversionary tactic and while a couple of them were busy shooting, he snuck up behind them and took'em down. Back-up finally arrived, but by that time, the threat was over."

For a long time, I simply stare at him, no idea what to say. The picture he paints has my hands shaking. Eventually I relent and put my utensils down – appetite completely gone.

"I…he…he never told me that."

Emmett grins, but it's a melancholic grin. "No, of course he didn't. It's not exactly the kind of story you tell a girl you've just fallen in love with."

When I snort he moves in closer, lowering his voice. "Not unless you're an asshole who's simply trying to impress, and that's never been his way, not in politics and not in real life." He backs away slowly. "He's not a perfect man, Bella, far from it, but you can't judge him by one action - though admittedly fucked up. There's a lot more to him than that."

"You speak like you know him very well."

"Like I said, we've been buddies for almost a decade."

"Well, I think you and I knew two very different Edwards."

"No, Bella, I don't think we did, and I think that as angry as you are – and have every right to be – somewhere deep inside, you know _that_."

I finish my wine quietly.

"Will you be around if I need to speak to you further, Emmett?"

He holds my gaze steadily. "I'll be around for a couple of days. After that, I have an important business trip that can't be put off any longer."

"Well then, I'll make sure to find you again in the next couple of days."

He gives me another one of his hearty, friendly chuckles. "Bella, I'm _completely_ at your disposal."

OOOOOOOOOO

When we return to Edward's office, I excuse myself and head to the room Austin and I have been given to type up some notes.

"…can't just show up here unannounced!" It's Edward's voice, and as I open the door fully, I see him and Irina standing together. She's looking down at her feet, her expression livid, while he stands over her.

"You only want me around when it's convenient for you!"

"Irina, it was _never_ that kind of relationship and I made sure I made that perfectly clear to-"

I clear my throat and both their heads whip up. Irina narrows her eyes while Edward's widen.

"Pardon me. I didn't mean to interrupt. Jasper told us we could use this room."

Edward looks around and blinks a couple of times, as if just realizing that the room isn't as empty as he may have been expecting.

"Isabella-"

"I'll return later."

I close the door and walk off keeping my head high; movements well controlled though my heart races.

"Ms. Swan! Isabella!" I hear Edward call me, but I don't turn around. Suddenly, I feel his hand around my wrist. He grips me carefully yet firmly, guiding my arm so that I have no choice but to turn around.

There are people all around us. Edward looks up and scans the room, plastering one of his serene, pleasant expressions on his face.

"Ms. Swan," – he lowers his voice – "Bella, I'm…sorry, I didn't know-"

"I'm not sure what you're apologizing for, Edward." I give him an easy smile. "This is your office and you may occupy any room you want for anything that you want – though I'm not sure what the taxpayers would think about that. And if you're apologizing for telling me that you'd be busy in meetings all day when in actuality you simply needed some time for your girlfriend, then I'll tell you that I don't need an apology for that either. I'm sure we'll be able to make time at some point."

He glares down at me, his hand still round my wrist. Scanning the room once again, he runs a hand through his mane and looks down at me once more.

"I didn't even know she'd be coming."

I don't answer him one way or another.

"Bella…she and I…it's not how it-"

"Edward, I sincerely hope this is on the record."

"Damn it, Bella!" He hisses a bit louder than I think he meant to. He looks around again. Everyone still appears busy doing his or her job.

"When you have time, Edward, then we can discuss your love-life, _on the record_, as we agreed last night. Now I have some work to get to, as I'm sure you do too." I move my eyes meaningfully towards the door to the semi-empty office before discreetly pulling my wrist away from his grasp. He lets me go.

OOOOOOOOOO

That afternoon, once the day's session is over, Edward walks over to us once again.

"Will you have time this evening for the second part of our interview, Congressman?"

He shakes his head, face impassive. "I have meetings this evening."

I nod slowly. "Very well, perhaps we can get to it tomorrow." I turn to Austin. "Do you want to go grab a bite over at-"

"Ms. Swan," Edward says, "May I have a word with you?"

I hold his gaze. "Certainly."

"Isabella, I'll wait for you outside," Austin says, and I nod, eyes still on Edward.

"Congressman, I get the distinct feeling that you're trying to avoid me today."

He chuckles humorlessly. "I'm not exactly looking forward to the next topic of discussion you have planned for us."

"I don't see why not. You must have known that we'd have to discuss the topic for this piece. As a public figure, your love life is a topic of great interest to the people, as is your relationship with your ex-wife. People are still fascinated by you and Tanya and can't understand how a couple so well-suited to each other could've failed, while a few others - the skeptics - maintain that it was a marriage of convenience from the very beginning. They say that you simply married her to advance your political career quicker than would've been the case on your own - even if your father was a Congressman – and the President wanted the marriage because he saw the potential in you and the type of control a marriage to his daughter would give him in the long run. Can you blame me for wanting to once and for all get to the bottom of that great mystery for my magazine? Imagine all the issues I'd be able to sell if I could finally solve it!"

"Bella, stop. Jesus, just _please_ stop this and let me know what you really want."

I hold his gaze, tightening the set of my mouth because I can feel my bottom lip wanting to quiver weakly – to betray me.

"You let me know when you're available, Edward." I turn and leave.

OOOOOOOOOO

Ellie and I speak over the phone for about a half-hour once I return to the hotel. She's excited because apparently Rose, Alice and Mum took her into London today. I promise her that when I return, we'll all go together because she says that although it was fun, it wasn't as much fun without me.

"Mummy, why is my middle name London?"

"Don't you like your middle name, sweetheart?"

"Yes, but it's funny. Why is it London?"

I sigh deeply. "Because it's where you were created."

"I was created in London?"

She sounds so excited it makes me smile.

"Yes, my love. An angel smiled down on me once while I was in London, and the next thing I knew, you were in my belly."

She giggles and then starts telling me about the flowers she saw at Covent Garden – and I thank God that's where her questions end.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, I'm at the hotel's bar, sipping a glass of wine slowly. It's quite empty, and I'm grateful for both the quiet and solitude. The lights are low, and the music playing in the background equally so, soft soothing rhythms that leave me alone with my thoughts yet make it hard for me not to replay the few things I've learned of the Congressman in the past couple of days. Though I'm taking a break from the piece I'm writing on him, he still occupies my mind. When my mobile vibrates, I'm less than surprised by who the text is from.

**I'm ready for our next interview, Ms. Swan, whenever you are.**

OOOOOOOOOO

He meets me at the bar, dressed in faded denims and a black t-shirt that make him look younger and take me back to that weekend long ago. It's the first time I've seen him dressed down since then, and for some reason it absolutely guts me. But if there's one thing I've learned from him is how to put on a poker face – how to protect myself with a mask.

"Bella…" he breathes as he sits down at the dark corner of the bar where I've been waiting.

"Thank you for making time for me. I trust your meetings went well."

"As well as can be expected," he responds. "We were done earlier than I thought we'd be, so I figured…" – he draws in a breath – "you seemed pretty determined so I might as well get this over with."

He looks away from me and signals to the bartender.

I snort. "Congressman, if you plan on running this country, you need to learn how to face questions you may not be looking forward to."

The bartender serves him his drink, and he takes a large gulp. "I can face almost anything, Bella." His eyes remain on the inside of his glass. "Almost anything," he mutters almost to himself.

We're both quiet for a while, and then he turns his emerald eyes to me. It's my weakness; I've known this from day one and I force the inner armor up while he holds my gaze.

We each take a sip from our respective drinks, watching each other, waiting. I know the ball is in my court. I wanted to hold this question and answer session, but now that the moment is here, I can't seem to ask the questions that must be asked.

"Do you have a home here, Edward?" I find myself asking instead.

He appears momentarily relieved by the innocuous question.

"I keep a small apartment in Virginia that I rarely use. Most nights here in D.C, I just sleep in the office."

"In the office?" I repeat.

He nods, taking another swig of his drink. "My days here are pretty long and busy, and it's usually easier just to call it a day in the office. There's nothing for me to go back to the apartment for anyway."

"So your home in Long Island, is that where you officially live?"

He shakes his head. "That's my family home – it belongs to everyone in the family; my father, my aunt, my cousin-"

He stops suddenly as if he were about to say something and caught himself. I raise a brow to let him know that I caught the purposeful pause.

"My ex-wife," he finishes, staring straight ahead.

Before I can say anything, he continues. "We all have designated seasons, times of the year when the house is ours. If anyone wants to spend time at the house outside of these designated times, then we have to let each other know."

"So this coming weekend is your designated time?"

He nods.

"So where do you actually live then, Edward?"

"I have a townhouse in New York City, on the Upper West Side by Central Park. Where do you live?"

Caught by surprise, I hesitate. "I…live in London."

"_Where_?"

There's something strangely intense about the tone of his voice.

"I have a flat near Covent Garden. I also have an apartment in New York, not far from where your townhouse is, actually."

He snorts. "Funny how life works, isn't it? How's Tyler?"

"Tyler?" Once again, I don't expect the question. I actually haven't heard the name in years. I recall a vague conversation about him with Edward that weekend.

"Tyler is fine, last I heard. He's married, with a couple of kids, living in Wales, I believe."

He snorts once again, perfectly still, still staring deep into his half-empty glass.

"Edward, I want to talk about-"

"Is he still the only man you've ever believed yourself in love with, Bella?"

"That's really none of your business."

Another snort. "No, I don't suppose it is."

"We're here to discuss you, Edward, not me. Let's move on to your time in the military."

"I think I remember we did speak about that once." His mouth twitches slightly.

"Not in too much depth; we were too busy fucking."

I see the way his eyes widen; startled, though he's still staring at his glass.

"Is that how you remember it, Bella, that all we did was _fuck_? Because I remember it very differently. I remember…a lot of time spent getting to know each other; simply…talking." He looks like he might be smiling.

"Obviously not about anything important, not about any of the things we _should've_ been talking about."

He finally looks back up at me, eyes pained. "_Bella_…Bella I'm so damned-"

I take a deep breath full of irritation, because I can't believe I've let myself get sucked in like this. "Don't. Just…don't. _Please_ talk to me about your time in the military."

"Emmett tells me he's already filled you in on that, Bella, and I honestly don't want to discuss it further."

"You don't like talking about it."

He shrugs.

"Why not?"

It takes him a while to answer. "Your…father was a cop, right?"

I nod tersely.

"For a long time?"

"Over twenty years."

"What did he ever tell you about what he did? He probably told you he caught thieves," he goes on before I can answer, "arrested criminals, fingerprinted bad guys, looked up information. Did he ever give you the gory details? Did he tell you about the men he had to beat to a bloody pulp, or about the times he was beaten to a bloody pulp, about people he may have seen die, or…may have killed himself?"

I swallow thickly. "So you ignore unpleasant memories, make believe they never happened, relegate them to things you'd rather not waste your time thinking of?"

His emerald eyes narrow, ignited by fire. "No, Bella. I don't ignore unpleasant memories. I'm haunted by them every damned day of my life. I'm haunted by everything I should've done that I didn't. By everything I did that I shouldn't have. By things I didn't say and things I did. I'm haunted by the fact that you look at me exactly the way I always feared you'd look at me if I ever saw you again."

My heart thumps painfully. "Stop. We're talking about your time in the military, Edward. Please stay on topic and on record."

"Damn it, Bella." He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "How did I fuck it up so badly?"

"I don't know what you mean. Things seem to be going wonderful for you. Exactly as you always planned."

"Is that how you see it, Bella?" Before I can answer, he looks away, just beyond me. "Do you hear that song?"

There's the soft, melancholy notes of a song I recognize but can't quite recall by name.

"I've always liked this song," he muses. The bartender sets another drink before him, but Edward ignores it. His eyes turn to me, once again taking me by surprise. This time it takes me longer to put up the armor. I bite my lip, because it would be _so_ easy to get lost in those eyes once more, to believe the pain, the hurt in them.

"Dance with me, Bella."

"No," I breathe.

"One dance, Bella. Just one dance and you can ask me anything you want this week, _anything_, and I swear I'll answer truthfully and completely."

My chest heaves up and down, and though I know I shouldn't, I want those answers. I _need_ them.

He must see my answer in my expression, because he takes my hand inside his warm palm and leads me just a couple of short feet away. He wraps his hands around my waist and I close my eyes, as if somehow that can erase the heat. His grip is tight around me, but I barely ghost my hands over his chest.

The man on the radio croons his wistful tune.

'…_and time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much. Are you still mine?'_

He gazes down at me with an intensity that takes my breath away. I drop my eyes to his chest because this is the man who lied to me with that same intensity, who offered me the world at his side and then pulled the rug out from under me in one swoop – all in less than seventy-two hours.

I stare at the way his chest rises and falls.

"Ask me your questions, Bella," he whispers. I feel the warmth of his breath on my forehead.

I close my eyes again and swallow hard.

"Tell me…tell me about…_Elizabeth_…your mum."

He grips my hips tighter and its becoming so hard not to hold on to him the way my traitorous hands want to hold him.

"Elizabeth," he repeats. My eyes sting from hearing that name fall from his lips with so much love; so much respect, awe and affection.

"She used to take me to the park when I was a small boy, run around with me. And when I was old enough to make my own friends she used to sit back and just watch me, making sure not to embarrass me around the other boys. She taught me to play piano even though my father thought it was a waste of time. She used to bake…used to call me her 'little man'" he chuckles. "She taught me to respect myself, and to respect others." He's quiet; thoughtful. "She taught me that it was okay to make mistakes as long as I took responsibility for my actions, no matter what the consequence, because 'a world without responsibility is a world without consequences, and a world without consequences is a world full of chaos.' I was about nine when she taught me that one, so I'm honestly not sure if I got it right."

I chuckle despite everything, and I can _feel_ the warmth emanating from him.

He draws in a deep breath and I watch as his chest expands and contracts. Like that night he held me on the Tower Bridge, I can almost feel his heart beating against mine.

"She died when I was ten, and my entire childhood changed. My father taught me what real responsibility meant; responsibility not just to oneself, but to your family, to your country."

The song in the background plays on lowly.

'_Oh my love, my darling, I've hungered, hungered for your touch a long, lonely time…'_

"Do you think your life would've been different had she not passed when you were so young?"

He doesn't answer straight away. When he does, I feel the reverberations of his words on the top of my head; his lips are on my hair when he speaks.

"I can't blame the mistakes I've made in my life on her death, just like I can't blame my father for them either. My mother gave me a good foundation; she said it was okay to make mistakes as long as you took responsibility…but what if...what if you chose the wrong responsibility? What then? How do you fix that? What if you lose your opportunity to fix it?" He sighs again. "She was gone before she could teach me the answers to those questions...She gave me good principles. The path I took after that was entirely me."

We're both silent for quite a long time after that. The song ends and another one takes its place; possibly another one after that. I'm not even sure when I've begun to hold on to him so tightly, when I moved in so close, when I started feeling so comfortable in his arms again.

"Tell me what she looked like."

He chuckles. That warmth in his voice engulfs me completely. "She had hair more or less the same color as mine, a bit darker I think; more brown than red. I have her eyes too. She wasn't afraid to ask questions, to speak out, but at the same time, she had a way of talking, of saying things that made everyone love her. She held our family together."

I close my eyes and press my head against his chest to hold myself up, hearing the erratic beating of his heart, so grateful that he can't see my face right now because he's just described his daughter to a tee. For a long while, he simply holds me against him while my mind swims with bewilderment.

How do I tell him? When do I tell him? Can I really wait until the end of the week to do so?

He pulls me away suddenly, his eyes searching mine. "Bella, are you okay? You're shaking."

I blink a few times, pushing back the sting in my eyes, willing myself to get under control.

"I'm fine."

He holds my gaze, his eyes _and_ his expression so full of concern. The words are on the tip of my tongue and suddenly I can't remember what exactly I'm supposed to accomplish here. I'd been so sure telling him about Ellie would be a huge blow to him, and I hated him for that. I'd despised him because I'd been positive he would've seen the gift I was given, the gift _we_ were given, as a punishment.

But this man in front of me…he just doesn't seem like the bold, defiant, remorseless man I've been watching on a television screen, reading about in the newspapers, for the past six years. I was so sure that his resignation would be for the best because he's a heartless bastard. But if nothing else, he's cared about two things in his life: his country, his mother.

So what does that mean? Am I falling for his lies once more? Or...could there possibly _be_ more to Congressman Edward Cullen?

I break away from him. "I have to go."

"Bella-"

Without another look at him, I take the couple of steps back to the bar and pick up my purse. "We've a long day tomorrow, traveling back to New York. Perhaps we should leave our next session for after the campaign stops we're making."

I feel his hand wrap around my bare arm; _feel_ it everywhere really. Still. Despite everything, damn it, I _still_ feel it everywhere.

"Bella, please…can we have a _real_ conversation? Off the record?"

I hear his voice behind me, feel it against the nape of my neck. I shut my eyes tightly, shut my heart.

"Edward…no. Not now."

"_Bella_…"

And with that, I walk out of the bar.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	12. Chapter 12 - Growing

**A/N: Again, thanks so much for all your thoughts. Absolutely love reading them and how many emotions this story is stirring. Someone even told me she had a nightmare that she had to tell her ex that her daughter was his daughter too - and then woke up and realized it was just the plot to this story! Kristine, I'm _still_ laughing about that. :)**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes is my beta chickie.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Growing**

**Then:**

The morning of my first sonogram, I lie nervously and still on the exam table. My mum and Rose bounce in their seats across from me. I rub my stomach absently - it's only just starting to round out - and smile to myself when I feel a faint flutter, a light kick.

My mum chuckles. "Oh, I saw that! That right there is going to be a football player, he is!"

"Mum," I laugh, "we don't even know if it's a boy or a girl!"

"Either way, Love, that baby is a football player. Oh, your dad would've been so proud!"

Rose and I laugh again while Doctor Gerandy walks in and greets us.

"Well, Isabella, are you ready to see your baby?"

She turns on the ultrasound machine, shoots out a warm jelly over my stomach, and then proceeds to roll it around me belly with gentle pressure.

My heart thumps rapidly as I look at the black and white screen and expect to have to study it hard because I've heard it can be quite confusing and vague – but no. It's right there, a round head and a small nose and round lips and a round little body - confirmation that the past few months haven't merely been nausea and heartburn and cravings and strange, small flutters. There's a _baby_ growing inside of me. I was honestly starting to doubt it, but it's plain as day now.

"There's your baby," Doctor Gerandy smiles, while Rose and my mum remain perfectly still and quiet; while I blink and stare at the screen.

The doctor rolls around a small ball on the keyboard. It looks as if she's taking measurements, but I'm too absorbed by the tiny, floating thing on the screen to ask. She turns a knob, and suddenly the room is filled with a quick pitter-patter, like a pony racing along.

"Bloody ell, what is _that_?" I ask, wide-eyed.

"That's your baby's heartbeat," Doctor Gerandy answers, grinning at the screen. "The child looks healthy," she says after a while. "All measurements look good, and the heart is nice and strong. Everything looks great, Isabella." She turns to look at me. "Now, do you want to know the sex of your baby?"

"Yes!" My mum and Rose both yell out.

"No!" I shake my head vehemently.

"Bella!" Rose whines, "this is ridiculous! You've still got twenty more weeks to go! You can't actually expect us to wait!"

I raise a brow at her, and she sucks her teeth, rolling her eyes at me and muttering, "This sucks bollocks."

I gaze at the screen again.

My baby.

_Edward's_ and my baby - only he'll never know because if this ever got out he and his family would put us through hell.

The Cullen Legacy trumps absolutely _everything_, as I've come to learn.

Doctor Gerandy prints out a couple of pictures for me and then after a few questions, she and Rose and my mum walk out so that I may dress. I throw on my jumper and denims, leaving the top button open because I need more room lately, and then I take a quick seat and look at my pictures. My finger traces the curve of the forehead down to the cherub-like nose, and around the full lips. They look like Edward's lips, and I find myself wondering how much of Edward this child will have. Will it have his hair, his eyes, his mouth, his drive and ambition?

Will _I_ be enough for it?

I don't even realize how hard I'm crying until my mum walks in and pulls me into her arms.

"The child is beautiful and healthy, Bella," she murmurs tenderly. "Once you hold it in your arms, everything else will fade away."

I nod, hiding my face against her neck.

OOOOOOOOOO

Weeks pass, and it seems to happen out of nowhere; my stomach pops out! And though I've left the first trimester far behind, the morning sickness never does leave me. I've become used to it, however, and just have a quick meeting with the loo every morning and go about my day.

Christmas and New Years come and go as I approach the six-month mark of my pregnancy. The days become quite long. In reality, I know that they're no longer than before, yet it feels as if they never end: classes in the morning - once the morning sickness has subsided - and afternoons and evenings at the pub. They tell me I do too much, that I have to stay off my feet a bit more, but staying busy is the only way I get through the days. Surrounding myself with friends is the only way I get through the evenings.

Then sleep comes…and so do the dreams. Sometimes I dream of _him_, sometimes of our unborn child. Sometimes my mind taunts me, makes me believe _he's_ come back. In those dreams, I tell him of the baby, and he grabs my face in his hands. His eyes sparkle with joy, and he kisses me and kisses me the way he used to…the way he did that one solitary short weekend…

"_My son chose his path a long time ago and has never, and will never, waver from it!"_

And then I wake.

OOOOOOOOOO

Most days I'm torn between anticipation and the constant ache that never truly leaves me. Different and confusing new sensations run rampant throughout my body. One day I'm melancholic, the next day ecstatic; one day I feel tired, the next I have more energy than a bouncing bunny. And there are also other…feelings…aches…surprising needs that are suddenly more intense than ever.

One night, after Leah and Rose have gone to bed, Jake and I are on the couch watching telly. We've become very good friends over the past few months. He looks after me, and he's here at this time of night because he knows how hard sleep is for me now.

"Right, how about Franklin for a boy, and Celine for a girl?"

I roll my eyes. "Those are dreadful, Jake."

"Bella, be honest, do you want a boy or a girl?"

I shrug and smile softly, rubbing my stomach. It feels tighter than usual tonight.

"I don't really know," I say, though in my mind's eye, I picture a small boy as beautiful as his father. "I want a healthy baby."

"That's quite a noncommittal answer," he snorts. "Perhaps you should go to bed and rest so you can think about it some more."

"I rest quite enough, Jake." But a long sigh comes out afterwards, and Jake catches it.

"Something's been bothering you."

Jake's become pretty talented at reading me lately.

"It's nothing." I shake my head vehemently.

He leans over me, dark eyes narrowed. "Bella, something is bothering you."

"I'm bloody six months pregnant!" I retort. "_Everything_ is bothering me!"

Jake chuckles. I search his face as he gazes at me intently. He's a bloody handsome bloke, well-built. And he likes me. My eyes trail to the way his muscles strain under his tee-shirt, to his long fingers…

I close my eyes tightly.

"Bella, what's wrong?"

I shake my head.

"Bella…"

"I'm bleeding horny, Jake!" I yell. "I'm feeling randier than a prince in heat, alright? These bloody hormones running through my body are making me want to jump you and have a serious go with you 'til sunrise! There! Are you happy now?"

For a few seconds, he simply sits there, staring at me and blinking. Then he backs away and sits back, staring straight ahead.

"Blimey."

"Sorry, Jake," I murmur.

He snorts and turns his eyes to me. "I'm not sure what you're apologizing for."

"Jake…" I sigh. "Jake, it's just the hormones."

I keep repeating that, even as he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me…

OOOOOOOOOO

The next day I'm in bed revising for an exam when an acute kick knocks the wind out of me. I gasp sharply and look down at my stomach, which is uncovered because my tank top keeps riding up over it. A sharp peak protrudes from my left side, rising up like a hill. There's a strange tightness that accompanies it. It's a different kick from any I've felt so far, and my baby's foot or arm or whatever body part it is simply remains protruding.

Rose comes out of the bathroom, and I chuckle, jerking my head down to my stomach.

"Look at that!" I exclaim.

She narrows her eyes curiously and smiles. "What in the world is that?"

"I suppose it's one of its limbs. It feels quite strange."

A couple of days later, Rose and I are at my mum's. Alice and I have just come back from a walk, and we're both sitting across the sofa.

"How about Leonardo for a boy and Kate for a girl?" Alice asks

"You've been watching _Titanic_ again, have you?" I snicker. She rolls her eyes at me.

Suddenly, the baby gives me one of those sharp kicks again, the ones that tighten my stomach and leave me breathless and that leave what looks like a limb sticking out of me stomach.

"Ow!" I complain.

"What in the bloody hell?" Alice asks, wide-eyed.

"It's these strange kicks the baby seems to be giving me lately," I chuckle, waiting for the uncomfortable tightening to recede.

My mum walks into the room carrying a tray of water for us and catches the three of us staring at my round stomach. She puts the tray aside and walks over to me, putting a gentle hand over the protrusion.

"What's going on, Bella, love?"

"I think the baby's kicking me!" I snort.

She frowns. "What does it feel like?"

"It feels tight, like my entire stomach is…contracting."

A sharp wave of terror shoots through me.

"Bella," my mum says in calm tone, "how often have you been feeling these?"

My voice trembles now. "A few times a day for the past few days. Mum?" I look up at her, more frightened than I've ever been; more frightened than when I found out I was pregnant, more frightened than when Carlisle threatened me, even more frightened than that last hour I spent with _him_.

"Shh, relax, Love. Let's just get you to the hospital and see what the doctor says."

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time we arrive at the hospital, I'm contracting every seven to ten minutes or so. I'm wheeled up to labor and delivery where Dr. Gerandy comes to see me straight away.

"Isabella, what's going on?" she asks in that calming tone doctors tend to have.

"I…I didn't realize it was contractions. I thought the baby was kicking me," I say weakly.

"How often are you feeling these?"

"Every seven to ten minutes," Rose answers for me. There's an agonizing tension in the air. I rub my stomach absently, picturing my baby, the pictures Dr. Gerandy gave me just a few weeks ago; I keep picturing _him_ smiling down at our newborn.

Dr. Gerandy squeezes my hand. "Let's take a look and see what's going on, Isabella, okay?"

I nod warily.

OOOOOOOOOO

"They're called pre-term contractions," Dr. Gerandy explains to us about a half hour later. I've been examined thoroughly and hooked up to a few machines, including one that monitors my baby's heart. Its rhythmic pitter-patter now fills the room and calms me slightly. "The good news is that they're not very strong, and they're not occurring in any regular pattern."

"Oh, thank God," my mum breathes. "So what now?"

"Well, we have to stop the contractions to make sure that they don't dilate you or put you into premature labor, and to do that, we'll have to keep you here for a couple of days, at least, Isabella."

I nod my consent.

"Very good. We'll have to start you on a medication called Ritrodine, which should stop the contractions but will unfortunately make you slightly dizzy and shaky for a while. We'll also have to start you on a round of steroids to speed up the development of the baby's lungs, in case it does come early, as well as a round of antibiotics to-"

"Doctor, will any of this hurt my baby?" I ask anxiously.

"No," Doctor Gerandy assures me with a soothing smile. "Isabella, our goal is to keep this baby inside you safe and warm for as long as possible."

I nod again, and we all lie about the room in a quiet daze.

"Do you have any questions for me, Isabella?"

"Doctor, what…what could have caused this?"

"There are many factors that can contribute to pre-term contractions, most of which you don't meet. But lack of rest and too much stress can also be factors."

Rose and my mum both look at me.

"Try not to worry, Isabella. The best things that you can do for you and your baby right now are to rest and avoid anything that may stress you."

OOOOOOOOOO

In the end, I'm in the hospital for a week. The doctors and medication do manage to stave off my labor, and once I'm released I'm put on bed rest, greatly cutting down on my activities, and I'm told to avoid stress as much as possible.

All the while I'm in the hospital, my mum, Alice, and Jake practically live there with me.

Rose spends the first day with me, but then she doesn't show up in Leigh again for over a fortnight. She rings me every couple of days, but her calls are quick and anxious. I'm admittedly puzzled, as well as slightly hurt by her absence, especially now. Yet I know that no matter what, she loves me like a sister and already loves this baby as her own niece or nephew. I remind myself that she has her own life, tell myself that she's probably met some bloke that's helping her remember that she's a twenty year old, beautiful young girl that should be having the time of her life right now, not tending after her pregnant friend.

I feel horrible for the flash of envy that abruptly runs through me, so I remind myself that she's already put so much on hold to help me. Besides, with Jake here, she and Leah are managing things at the pub; it's not all fun and games.

My mum and I have discussed it, and she's convinced me that for my baby's sake, I'm going to have to quit the pub and move back home, which guts me because now my mum has an extra added expense. I've spoken to my school and they'll allow me to finish up the term from home, both online and with Rose bringing home everything else. After that…well, I don't know after that. I'll have to wait and see.

I'm resting on the couch, staring out the window and picturing _him_ walking up, knocking, running to me and kneeling on the floor, telling me he made a mistake and that he wants me and his baby, not that big, white house in Washington, D.C.-

-when Rose turns the corner and walks up to the house.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around, Bella," she tells me once she's inside, sitting next to me.

"It's quite alright, Rose. I know you've got school and work. I don't expect your life to stop."

For a split second, I envy her again; the normality of her life, but then my baby kicks me and I rub my belly, and…and I wouldn't give him or her up for the world.

Rose is uncommonly quiet. Her eyes meet mine for a split second before she glances away.

I reach for her hand and squeeze it. "Hey, are you okay?"

She nods silently, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Hey, Rose…"

She shifts her eyes to me sideways; hesitant.

"Rose, you've done _so_ much for me already. I'll never be able to thank you…I understand that you have your own life, and-"

I'm stunned when she starts crying.

The thing is, between Rose and I, she's always been the strong one. Even while growing up with her drunk of a mother, I think I only saw her cry once or twice. She doesn't fold easily, so seeing her cry now…

"What's going on, Rose? Is everything alright?"

I suddenly feel so contrite because I've been so involved in _my_ life, in _my_ misery and _my_ pregnancy and _my_ hopes and despairs that I haven't been paying attention to _her_ life. She's my best friend. We've _always_ been there for each other.

"Rose, what is it? Tell me what's happened."

She looks down at our hands. "Everything's fine, Bella. I'm just…" – she looks up and away – "I just want the best for you, Bella, for you and that baby there. I don't want anyone to hurt you again," she says, sobbing openly, "because you're my sister and…and you deserve a real man that will _always_ be there for you, someone who's constant and doesn't bolt the second Daddy calls. You deserve a man who's been honest from day one, not some git who just wants to play games."

"You mean I should be with Jake, don't you?" I ask with a raised _brow_.

She doesn't answer straight away. "Yes. Yes, that's what I meant. Jake is a good bloke, and he truly cares about you..._and_ the baby."

I sigh, rubbing my belly. "Yes, I know he does." Her teary words bring tears to my own eyes and I sit up and hug her tight. After a few minutes, she pulls away.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Bella. The _last_ thing you need right now is more stress."

I smile at her though her eyes remain downcast, and with my entire heart, I _try_ to make myself believe the words I say next.

"I'll be fine, Rose. You'll see. All I need is my family and this baby. I'll _never_ need anything or anyone else again."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**When I was pregnant with my first child, I developed more or less the same pregnancy complications Bella is having now. I started feeling these weird tightening sensations in my belly, and would look down to find a protrusion, so I assumed it was the baby kicking! Not the case. After the hospital I had to remain on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. Stressful time, but luckily I held her in for 36 weeks so all was good. **

**And I don't know about you guys, but I **_**did**_** feel randier than a prince in heat. :)**

**Anyway, just a short little story within a story there… **

*****Next week is a big week for our characters. And btw, the last chapter of the week, the "Then" chapter, _will_ be in Edward's POV… :)*****

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	13. Ch 13 - Oyster Bay Cove, Long Island

**A/N: TCL is being featured as Fic of the Week over at the Lemonade Stand! Go check out the feature Evilnat wrote up for it: triple w tehlemonadestand dot net**

**This is a monster of a friggin' chapter. Normally, I would've split it in two, but I didn't for a couple of reasons:**

**1. It would've messed with the "Now" and "Then" format of the story because we would've had two "Now" chapters in a row.**

**2. Edward's POV is the next "Then" chapter, and I know that a few of you are looking forward to that. ;)**

**So read on my lovelies, but I warn you, this is one long bitch. ;)**

**All characters belong to S. Meyer**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes. **

* * *

**Ch. 13 – Oyster Bay Cove, Long Island**

**NOW:**

We spend one more day in the Capitol, and then we're on the road. There's a stop at a senior citizen home in Brooklyn where Edward helps prepare meals for the residents and then reads to them; all the while they watch him adoringly. Later in the day, we make a stop at a factory in Red Hook where he pulls up his sleeves and works side by side with Union laborers, handling machinery and wiping away beads of sweat from his forehead. Austin is in a little piece of photographic heaven. The laborers worship him and pledge him their full support, and I take it all in - his passion, his determination.

It all looks so bloody _real_.

Long days lead to late evenings. We have dinners together as a group and discuss Edward's political views, his plans. I'm putting everything in place for the piece, continuing my interviews - yet I can't seem to get myself to seek Edward out for that last part of our interview. He doesn't seek me out either.

Kate joins me for an interview late afternoon in Syracuse. Not surprisingly, she gushes over Edward. It's also obvious that she's quite keen on her boss. So after a long five days, Edward, as well as Austin and I, Kate and Jasper retreat to his family estate in Oyster Bay Cove, Long Island. Emmett has already left on his business trip and I kind of miss his presence; he's a fun sort of bloke.

We're greeted by a huge, black wrought iron gate along a quiet, serene street. The gate opens as our small caravan of cars approach it. Beyond it, we drive down another half mile of road with well-manicured trees on either side before a huge, white colonial-style house comes into view. We reach a circular driveway with a beautiful, concrete water fountain sitting majestically in the middle of it. Edward is in the front car, a sleek, black little Audi that I silently envy though my red BMW is nothing to scoff at either; mine is simply a rental, however.

When I reach for the door handle to open my car, Edward beats me to it.

"Thank you."

He grins softly. "Let me help you with your luggage."

I acquiesce, and he opens the back seat, pulling out my garment bag and small carry-on. I feel his eyes on me as I scan my surroundings, manicured lawns and colorful, blooming flowers. My mum would love this.

The huge, wooden double doors to the front of the house open and an older, distinguished-looking gentleman walks out. With an expression as neutral and unreadable as those Edward tends to wear, he casually takes the few steps down to us.

Carlisle Cullen.

My entire body goes rigid, though I do my best to appear as neutral as the two men surrounding me.

Edward shakes his father's hand stiffly. "Dad, what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? Do I need to make an appointment to come to my own home?"

"The summers here are mine, Sir. I wasn't expecting you."

I want to look away from the man who once insulted and belittled me, but I'm overwhelmed by curiosity about the patriarch to the legacy that left my daughter fatherless.

"I wanted to be here this weekend, while you're being interviewed for that magazine."

"That's not really necessary, Sir."

"I believe it _is_ necessary."

I quietly watch the two men. Both are about the same height, though Edward appears about an inch or so taller. They're built similarly, and though Edward has the advantage of youth, Carlisle Cullen appears to exude the same strength and power that his son does. As I stand there watching the silent battle of wills, Carlisle's cool eyes quickly trail to me.

My stomach rolls.

I've prepared myself for the possibility that I'd see this man; I've reminded myself that I'm no longer that scared, helpless and powerless twenty-year old he once spoke down to.

Besides, he has no way of knowing who I am.

I curl my hands into fists at my sides.

"You must be Isabella Swan, the journalist doing the piece on my son."

As soon as he addresses me, I see the unequivocal difference between this man and his son. When Carlisle speaks, there's none of the smoothness, the charisma that his son instinctively possesses.

I shake his hand firmly, and he grips mine just as solidly. "Yes, and you must be Carlisle Cullen."

"I trust my son has been a better host to you than he is being to me at the moment."

"Dad-"

"We've had an interesting week," I respond vaguely, giving him a smile as hollow as the one he wears.

"I hope you don't mind if I'm around for the weekend, or if I'm a quiet observer to your work."

"Not at all," I respond evenly. "Perhaps I can even have some of your time this weekend for a quick interview?"

"I would enjoy that, Ms. Swan. Yes, thank you."

There's something about the way he thanks me; it raises the fine hairs on my arms. Something about the way he holds my gaze…I have to once more remind myself that he _can't_ possibly know who I am.

"No need, Sir. Thank _you_."

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward leads me inside the house while his father remains outside greeting the rest of the group. I'm a bundle of nerves, and beside me, I can _feel_ the irritation wafting off of Edward, but when we walk into the house, all thoughts of Carlisle Cullen are placed on the backburner - for now.

We're surrounded by a huge foyer decorated in a quiet, understated elegance. Calming cream-toned walls and soothing woodwork encompass the space instead of the marble and grandeur I would've expected. A few frames decorate the walls with pictures of what appear to be candid pictures of family members, rather than expensive artwork or the rigid portraits old-money tends to prefer.

"Edward?"

"Aunt Esme?"

"Edward, you're home!"

The woman absolutely glows with excitement and affection as she rushes over and wraps her arms around Edward. He returns the embrace with the same enthusiasm before letting go and backing away.

"Home," he repeats with a snort. "Why didn't you warn me Dad was here?"

"Would you have come if I'd told you?"

Edward shakes his head.

"That's why I didn't tell you."

He smirks, and she chuckles warmly, her eyes trailing to me.

"Uhm…" – Edward clears his throat – "Aunt Esme, this is Isabella Swan, the journalist I mentioned would be staying with us this weekend. Isabella, this is my aunt, Esme Platt."

Esme and I shake hands. She has light brown hair worn up in a loose bun, is about average height with warm blue eyes and features that remind me of both Edward and Ellie.

The realization almost makes me gasp. This is _Ellie's_ family: her father, her grandfather, her aunt, her cousin…_her_ home by birthright.

"Ms. Swan, it's good to meet you," she smiles genuinely.

I force my mind back to the here and now. "Likewise, Ms. Platt."

"Please call me Esme."

"Esme then, and please call me Isabella."

"Isabella," she smiles tenderly, "you have a lovely accent. How long have you been in the U.S.?"

"She's just been here for a few months, and her accent really is beautiful, isn't it?"

Edward's eyes widen as soon as he's done speaking. He clears his throat once more. "Isabella, let me show you to your room."

OOOOOOOOOO

There's a long, wide hallway on the second floor of the house with lovely artwork of landscapes and more of what I assume are family pictures, though these appear to be older, some possibly even from the turn of the previous century. I stop and take a closer look at one with a woman and a man who appear to be in their mid-twenties, sitting out on what seems to be the water-fountain right outside. The clothing is from the early forties or so. The woman's cheek structure reminds me of Ellie, and though the picture is black and white, the man's eyes are obviously light and sparkling.

Edward leads me to the third door on the right.

"After you," he says, holding the door open for me, my luggage still in his hands.

It's a charming, white bedroom with a large canopy bed dressed in white linens. Pictures of beachside images grace the walls. The floor-to-ceiling windowed doors open up onto a balcony.

"It was one of my mother's favorite rooms," Edward murmurs, "because of the views."

I walk silently past him and open the doors to the balcony, stepping out into the warm breeze.

Coming up the way we did, I hadn't realized that the house backs up onto a huge dock with a thin sliver of sandy beach in front of and on either side of it. It's secluded; the nearest home in the horizon is at least a half-mile away. The Atlantic stretches out in front of me for as far as the eye can see.

"Do you like it?"

I feel his warm breath behind me, tickling the nape of my neck, and I close my eyes, breathing in the salty scent of the ocean mixing with the clean scent of _him_.

"It's absolutely…lovely."

I can almost feel his pleased smile. "The house has been in my mother's family for generations."

"Your mum's family? I assumed it was your dad's."

He's quiet for a few moments. Then he appears at my side, his arm grazing mine. He gazes out into the wide expanse of the ocean and breathes in deeply, obviously enjoying the ocean air.

"My mom's family was also involved in politics. FDR spent a couple of long weekends here back during his administration. We've had Reagan here, and Clinton, both Bushs'-"

"And Martin."

"And Martin," he agrees quietly. "When my mom died, she left the house to me with the condition that my Aunt Esme and my Dad would help me manage the Estate until I turned twenty-five."

"So the house belongs solely to you then, not to your family as you implied the other day."

Once again, he falls silent. We watch the sea gulls circle over the dock, calling to each other.

"It doesn't make sense for such a large house to belong to only one person."

"I'm sure your mum meant for you to have a family in it."

I wince internally and mentally kick myself. It's becoming so hard to filter my words, my thoughts.

"That's not going to happen," he murmurs.

He's waiting for me to say something again; I can feel it. And as a journalist, I really should…

"You said that…your ex-wife also has rights to the house."

He sighs. "It's in the divorce settlement. She owns forty percent of the property. I agreed to it pretty easily at the time, but now…I'm not so sure I should have. This was my mother's; everything I have left of her is in this house. I'd once hoped to..."

He turns his head towards me. Instinctively I turn to meet him. His face is serene, yet his eyes seem wistful.

"Come with me." He jerks his head back through the doors and walks off, as if _knowing_ I'll follow because I always _have_ followed, haven't I?

I stand stiffly while a sliver of anger warms me. Once, I followed him unquestioningly and lived to regret it.

Or…or did I?

I have a beautiful little girl as a result of following him, while every day I spend with him, I get the feeling that his path hasn't exactly been the ruthless quest for all-consuming supremacy that I'd been positive it would be.

With a deep sigh, I do follow him back into the room, where he walks to the dresser and picks up a picture frame, gazing at it with a nostalgic smile before handing it to me.

"This is Elizabeth Anne Masen Cullen – my mom."

She's out on a beach – I assume the sandy shoreline just behind us – on a sunny day. Her long, brownish-red hair – a shade darker than Edward's - waves in the breeze while she happily grins down at the little boy handing her a seashell.

It's _my_ Elizabeth – as I could picture her looking a couple of decades from now.

"She's beautiful," I whisper and quickly return the picture to him, walking away, turning my back to him so that he can't see the shock and bewilderment on my face. I sit heavily on the edge of the soft bed, the curtains billowing at my sides, unable to even raise my head.

I hear him walk towards me. "Bella, are you okay?"

There will never be a right time, a _perfect_ time to tell him; I realize that now. Yet this moment is probably the best I'll get, in this warm, quiet room; his mother's favorite room. Maybe it'll soften the blow for him…for both of us…

But my heart pounds so heavily I still can't even pick my head up, much less speak. Fear stiffens me, seals off my throat.

He's suddenly kneeling before me, looking up at me through anxious eyes. Slowly, hesitantly he places a warm palm on my leg, brushing back and forth, the heat and pressure from his fingertips seeping through my trousers and into my skin. I close my eyes, allowing his touch to soothe me the way it used to…

"Bella, what is it?"

My chest heaves. When I open my mouth, no words come out. He waits patiently while I try again.

"Edward…I…we…there's something I…"

"Edward?" Footsteps approach. When I look up, Jasper is standing at the doorway. He narrows his eyes, obviously puzzled by the sight of Edward kneeling before me.

"Edward, Congressman Lewis is on the phone." – Jasper presses his cell phone tightly to his thigh – "He wants to discuss next month's gun control vote before he meets with Congressman Philips on Monday."

"Tell him I'll call him back," Edward replies, his eyes firmly on me.

Jasper hesitates by the door.

"Jasper, tell him I'll call him back," Edward repeats sternly, still keeping his eyes trained on me.

"Uhm…"

"Edward, go. That sounds quite important. We'll talk later."

"Bella-"

"Just go. We'll talk later. I promise."

He searches my eyes for a moment, and then removes his palm from my leg. My entire body shudders.

"We'll talk later," he reiterates evenly. "I'll let you rest and come get you at about four for dinner. You have a private bathroom through that door."

I nod, feeling the fire in my face, the truth in my eyes, knowing that I'm not ready to tell him, but it's out of my hands now; the clock is ticking.

OOOOOOOOOO

After a short nap, I get up and call my Elizabeth.

"I'm in such a pretty house right now, Ellie. There's a beautiful fountain in the front and a lovely little beach in the back. I wish you could be here with me."

"Ooh, Mummy, can I go there with you someday?"

"Perhaps, Darling…perhaps someday you can come here…"

Eventually, Rose gets on the phone.

"So, you're planning on telling him tomorrow then?" Rose questions as we speak.

"Yes, before I leave."

"And you're still sure that he'll keep it quiet so as not to cause a scandal, that he won't try to use it to his advantage somehow?"

"He won't…"

I'm not sure of anything anymore, and Rose hears the hesitation in my voice. "Bella…Bella, remember how he bloody broke your heart. He's a liar, Bella. He lies for a living."

"I know, I know." My voice sounds weak and unsure even to me.

"Bella, look…just remember that…remember that no matter what, we're sisters, okay? That everything I've ever said or done has been because I want the best for you and for Ellie."

"Of course I remember that, Rose," I frown. "Of course I do."

When we hang up, I call Michael. We haven't spoken all week, though we've exchanged emails and texts.

"Isabella, I was just thinking of you."

I smile, curling myself into the comfortable deck chair out on the balcony. "Were you?"

"You haven't had much time for me this week."

"I've answered your texts and emails," I contradict. "I've been busy this week, Michael. You know that."

There's a silence that feels overwhelmingly loaded.

"So have you taken my advice?"

I know exactly what he's referring to. "Yes, Michael," I sigh, feeling irritated. "I have."

He chuckles. "Don't be upset with me, Sweetheart. When I told you I was looking out for you as a friend, I meant it. You know I don't talk shit."

"I know you don't, Michael. I appreciate that about you."

"Will you be returning to the city after this stint, Isabella? I'd like to see you."

"No, Michael. I'll be flying to London Monday morning. We discussed this, remember?"

"Yes, I suppose I do. I'll see you when you get back then. And Isabella? Be careful, Hon, okay? Don't let all those politicians suck you dry."

"I don't intend to, Michael."

"Good girl. I'll see you soon, Darling."

OOOOOOOOOO

I take my laptop out on the balcony for a while, letting the ocean breeze soothe my frazzled nerves, clear my mind. At about quarter after three, I take a quick bath and change into a white summer dress and white sandals. I wait around until five after four and then decide to leave the room on my own. As I make my way downstairs, I follow the wonderful scents into a huge kitchen with white wood cabinets and black granite counters. Esme is standing by the stove, and as she hears me approach, she turns around and smiles widely.

"Isabella, you look lovely. Dinner will just be a few more minutes."

"Thank you," I smile. "May I help?"

"Do you know how to make gravy?"

I shake my head sheepishly. "My mum and sister are the cooks in my family. I set the table and scrub dishes."

She laughs a sweet, genuine laugh.

"Sounds like my sister Elizabeth and me. She was never much for cooking either. Though she did like to bake, and Edward would swallow up those cookies whole!"

The image makes me chuckle. Ellie loves cookies too. I pull out a counter stool to sit.

"Edward speaks very highly of his mum."

She looks up at me, seemingly surprised.

"Does he? He doesn't usually speak much about her to people outside the family. But yes, he loved her very much and she he. He gets his personality from her. She was one of the few people in this world who knew how to handle both Edward and his father. They both took it very hard when she passed."

"From what Edward says, Carlisle didn't take it very hard at all."

Again she gives me a curious glance. After a pause, she says, "I know that Edward has a hard time sympathizing with his father, but they have very different personalities, very different ways of handling situations. When Elizabeth passed, Carlisle tried his best with Edward, in his own way."

"How? By turning him into a younger version of himself?"

She stops mixing and angles her entire body my way, studying me. I suddenly feel uncomfortable, as if I've said more than I should; as if she can see more of me than I'd wish her to.

"He certainly tried to, but…you seem very well-informed, Isabella."

"I've done my research."

"Yes," she muses quietly, "it seems that you have."

"So you helped to raise Edward, then?" I say.

She cocks her head sideways. "Yes, I did. I love Edward very much, Isabella, as my own son. I worry about him the way any mother would worry."

"Why do you worry about him? Do you not think he's following the correct path in his life?"

She doesn't answer right away. "Politics is in his blood on both sides. But it's more than just that; it's in his soul too. For the first time in a long time, this country has someone who actually _cares_, Isabella. Not for the glory of it, not to give his political party the win, but because he _cares_."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing for this country?"

"It's a great thing for this country," she responds, mixing away once again, "but what about for him?"

"But isn't this what he's always wanted?"

She sighs and looks away again. "It's not what Elizabeth would've wanted for him, at least not this way. He's convinced himself that he can either be there for his country or for himself – not for both."

We're both silent for a few moments, and then Edward walks into the kitchen.

"Bella, I'm so sorry. I had a conference call that ran longer than I was expecting it to."

"That's quite alright, Edward. I've always been able to find my way on my own."

I can feel both their eyes on me as I climb off the stool and go off to set the table.

OOOOOOOOOO

The table is huge and formal dark wood, big enough to accommodate us all. Jasper, Edward and I help Esme bring out all the food and then Edward pulls out one of the head seats for Esme and the one next to her for me. And despite the fact that this is Edward's house, Carlisle takes the seat at the other head. Edward takes a seat opposite me, at Esme's other side.

Conversation flows comfortably between almost everyone at the table – except for Edward and his father. They do speak to each other, but their topics are completely political – as if they're two fellow politicians rather than father and son.

"Isabella, where in London are you from?" Carlisle asks, catching me by surprise.

I swallow carefully. "I'm actually from outside of London."

"Really?" He sets his utensils down and studies me. I force myself to hold his gaze firmly. "Your…accent. I think I detect some cockney in it. Am I correct?"

I wipe my mouth with my cloth napkin. "Yes, Carlisle, you are."

"It's very faint, though."

"I suppose I've outgrown it."

He picks up his glass of wine, eyes still on me, smiling coolly. "Yes, I suppose you have."

OOOOOOOOOO

As promised, I help Esme clean up after dinner. Discomfort from my brief exchange with Carlisle rolls around in my stomach, but Esme and I manage to hold a pleasant conversation.

"How long have you known Edward, Bella?"

I blink quickly, startled. "I met him at a D.C. fundraiser a fortnight ago. My employer introduced us and suggested I do a piece for ERA magazine on him."

"Oh," she says quietly. "I'd gotten the impression you'd known him longer."

Edward walks in then with a few empty wine glasses and places them in the dishwasher.

"I think that's the last of it," he announces. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

"Why don't you just help Isabella finish loading the dishwasher? I'll go clean the table."

She walks out, and Edward and I awkwardly move around trying to load the dishwasher together. When we're done, I wash my hands and watch out of my periphery as Edward walks around the kitchen.

"Do you want some ice-cream?"

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure?" He holds up a quart, grinning impishly. "It's English Custard."

I can't help smiling. "Okay, perhaps just a bit."

His grin widens, eyes sparkling. I force myself to look away.

Two minutes later, we're sitting side by side on the kitchen stools while the voices of everyone else waft vaguely in the air.

"You'll be leaving for London tomorrow night?" he asks.

I stare straight ahead and nod, carefully swallowing the cool cream in my mouth. The taste isn't as authentic as the real thing, but it'll do.

"Do you go back to the Hill next week?"

Out of the corner of one eye I see him shake his head. "No, I'll be back in New York next week and then campaigning the following. I'm not due back in Congress until the following week."

I nod slowly.

"The magazine piece-"

"Should be completed by early next week," I finish for him. "Don't worry, I'll send you a courtesy copy before it goes to print, as promised."

"Thank you, but that's not what I was going to ask. I was going to ask if you've got everything you need. I know that…there's one more topic you wanted to cover. I want you to have _all_ the information, Bella."

I'm not stupid. Of course I realize how comfortable I'm getting with him, how comfortable we're getting with each other; dinner, dancing, gazing out together over a balcony, his hand on my leg soothingly, eating ice cream side by side. Rose was right. I _am_ forgetting about how he lied to me, how he gutted me, how he _used_ me. I promised him we'd talk, but I also have a job to do; a magazine and an employer depending on me. If I tell him now, I'll never be able to get that finished. We still have a day left.

He's waiting, but I can't look at him.

"Tell me about _your_ dad," he suddenly asks.

I turn and meet his gaze. "_My_ dad?"

He nods, warm green eyes boring into mine with all the curiosity about me he displayed that weekend.

"My dad," I repeat quietly, smiling at just the thought of him. "My dad…was a great dad. His name was Charles, but everyone called him Charlie. He was a good cop too. But he made time for us. I remember lots of weekends at the park out on the football field with me and Alice. We were never very good, but he cheered us on anyway," I chuckle, and Edward chuckles back. "He was very much in love with my mum. I never realized it at the time, but afterwards...in the past few years…well I've thought about their relationship quite a bit and realized how good they were for each other. He was always there for her, for all of us."

He's silently pensive. "You said she took his death hard, right?"

I nod. "But how else are you supposed to take it when you lose your soul mate?"

It's a rhetorical question. I don't expect an answer.

"When you lose your soul mate?" he repeats after a few moments. "You pray to God that you'll find her again and that she'll give you a second chance. And when that doesn't happen, you fill your life with empty goals and pretend that they're enough."

I look away from him quickly, more than a little puzzled, and train my eyes on a spot straight ahead.

We're silent.

"You _would_ make a great President someday, you know. You have that ability to talk in circles that a great leader must possess."

"Do I?" he asks. Again, we turn and hold each other's gaze. "Is that what _I'm_ doing, Bella, talking in circles?"

I climb off the stool to leave, but he grabs my wrist and turns me around, holding me close to him, close enough to see the fire burning in his eyes, to feel his chest heaving against mine, to feel his breath on my skin.

"Bella…you said we'd talk…" He searches my eyes.

"Tomorrow, Edward. Tomorrow we'll finish our interview and anything else that needs to be done between us."

Fire turns to ice. He nods tersely, letting go of my wrist.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning I wake early and take a walk along the thin sliver of beach as the sun rises over the water. My time is up; I'm fully aware of it, and my stomach is coiled tight, especially when I see Edward approaching me. For an endless moment, we walk quietly side by side, wet sand burying our bare feet before the tide washes it all away, before he finally begins.

"Our families have known each other for decades. Our fathers are great friends; they're part of the same political party, they share many of the same views."

"She's very…beautiful."

He's quiet for a minute. "Yes, she is. She's smart too; in the top five percent of her class in law school. I thought…I mean my dad…what more could I ask for, right? Smart, beautiful, her father was Senator Martin. Our entire relationship would work perfectly towards both our goals."

"Political goals, you mean? Is that what it all comes down to, Congressman? How it will all serve politically?"

He doesn't respond, and I hate myself for the obvious bitterness in my tone.

"It's not an excuse, but it was the path I'd been groomed for my entire life, Bella. It was the path my father kept telling me was the correct one. And at first, I did care for her, Bella, I did. I told myself that it was enough, but then I went off to the army and met you…"

Pain lances through my chest, but I keep walking stoically, the morning tide washing over my bare feet.

"What went wrong in the marriage?"

"What went wrong?" he snorts. "I _didn't_ love her. I married her for the wrong reasons."

"This is still on the record, Congressman."

"I understand."

I stop and face him, nostrils flaring, chest heaving. "So you married her to advance your career. Are you sure you want that on the record?"

He stops and moves in closer. "I married her because I'd made her a promise, and I thought it was the right thing to do. I'd…changed while I was away in the service. I lost so much…and I thought perhaps…Bella, I was lost. My mind…my heart was in shambles and I thought perhaps I could at least make this one thing work."

I feel the tears sting my eyes. "Whatever you lost was of your own doing."

"I know. Believe me, I know."

A tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe away at it angrily. "And the divorce?"

"The divorce came four years later. We both knew from the very beginning that we'd made a mistake, but…it took a while to convince her that there was no point in continuing together. Eventually we just came to a mutual understanding, and that was that."

"That was that," I spit. "It worked out well, though, didn't it? Very conveniently well."

He holds my gaze, and suddenly he doesn't look like the all-powerful, commanding, influential, thirty-one year old congressman I've been hired to write a piece on; he looks like the twenty-four year old, sweet, honest soldier I once met and fell in love with. Face serene but eyes full of expression…full of…

"I know it seems that way, Bella, but I swear to you, when I returned home after…I couldn't have cared less about anything. I should've been a stronger man, I _know_ I should've."

"A stronger man for this country?" I grin wryly, wiping away another tear.

"_No_, Bella. A stronger man for _you_."

Another tear falls and I turn away from him, but he grabs my arm and twists me around, cradling my face in his hands the way he used to, like I was something so precious that he was afraid to hold on too tightly.

"I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

The tears fall freely now. "I don't want to hear your apologies! I've _never_ wanted that!"

"Then what do you want, Bella?" His hold tightens around my face, fingertips brushing behind my ears. "Tell me _what_ you want! Are you here just to torture me? To give me a glimpse of what I gave up and can never have again?"

He locks me inside his hypnotic eyes, the way he used to, making it impossible for me to look away and I know I have to tell him - but not like this. Not in anger; not as a punishment. He hurt me; he took my heart and stomped on it so badly that it's never been the same again.

But our daughter is _not_ retribution.

His thumb caresses my cheek softly, stroking back and forth, ghosting around my lips, wiping away all my tears. For a split second, I think I see his own bottom lip start to quiver, his own eyes fill with moisture, but then…then he's suddenly the composed serene mask of Congressman Edward Cullen once again.

I inhale sharply, trying to put my own mask once more, and reach up, disentangling his hands from my face.

"Just give me a few minutes," I say, much more composed.

Then I turn around and run through the warm sand that tickles my bare feet before I can break down once more in front of him.

"Bella!" He calls out behind me.

I run into the back of the house, coming to a halt when I see Carlisle standing at the window, gazing out.

Edward runs in behind me and halts.

"Ms. Swan," Carlisle says smoothly, "Are you ready for our interview?"

My heart pounds wildly. "Please give me a few minutes, Mr. Cullen," I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "I'll be right-"

"I just have one story to tell you, Ms. Swan, and then I'll let you go," he says coolly. "I know very well how these interviews proceed. Why do I think my son would make a good senator, or better yet, why do I think he's the perfect man to run this country in a few years?"

"Go ahead," I say, though I'm frozen to my spot, and at my side, so is Edward.

"Because he knows how to sacrifice, Ms. Swan. I've taught him about sacrifice and ultimate responsibility and about putting things in the right perspective. Here's my story, Ms. Swan. A few years back," he begins, "while he was in the service, Edward disappeared for a weekend. I called him constantly, but the calls kept going to voice mail. Finally, after many calls he answered and told me that he'd met someone."

I whip my head over to Edward. He's glaring at his father, shock and fury both openly spelled in his eyes _and_ expression.

"That he'd met someone and fallen in _love_. Now naturally, you can't fall in love in one weekend, and I reminded him of that. I also reminded him of the responsibilities he had waiting for him here at home; a future, a fiancée, a country. I told him how inane it would be to risk all that for someone who had nothing more to offer him other than the warmth of her body. We argued, and he hung up on me, refusing to pick up any more of my calls."

I can't move. I can't make a sound.

"But he came home, Ms. Swan. He cleared his mind and came home and fulfilled all of his responsibilities; worked towards his legacy. _That's_ what a great leader is all about: putting your country and your responsibilities first, ahead of _everything_ else. And do you want to know the most important thing, Ms. Swan? In the end, when weighing the pros and cons, Edward will _always_ make the right decision; will _always_ choose the responsibility that's for the greater good. Now I suggest that for the sake of everyone involved, Ms. Swan, and I do mean _everyone_, we keep all this _off_ the record."

He gives me a loaded look before walking away, leaving me mute and immobile.

Elizabeth. Edward's father knows about Elizabeth.

"You asshole," Edward suddenly hisses. "You knew who she was all along, didn't you?"

I think I hear them argue, but I'm already in motion, turning and running up the steps because it no longer matters whether Carlisle knew about me all along; he knows about Elizabeth.

"Bella!"

I don't stop for him. I sprint into my room and start throwing everything into my bags, barely seeing anything, barely able to think. I hear Edward approach, feel him right behind me, but when he speaks his voice is muffled, as it was that day long ago. He touches my shoulder, my arm, tries to get me to stop, but I keep packing, zip up my bags and turn to leave.

I have to get home to my Ellie.

"Bella!" He blocks my way. "Bella, I swear I didn't know that he knew who you were!"

I look up at him, at his wild, bewildered eyes, so much like they were that day. He grabs my face between his hands again, and I close my eyes.

"_Please_ believe me, Bella. I had no idea that he knew or else I would've _never_ let him stay to put you through that!"

"Get out of my way," I say, opening my eyes and meeting his. "I _have_ to go right now. Get out of my way."

Begrudgingly, he moves aside, and for a split second, I do hesitate because I _know_ I _have_ to tell him, but I _need_ to go home to my daughter.

Something like hope crosses Edward's features at my hesitation, but then I turn around and quickly start walking.

"You don't want to hear it, Bella, but I've got to say it! I'm sorry. I'm so damned sorry I hurt you. I hurt _both_ of us. And more than anything I'm sorry that by the time I went back for you, I was too late. I'm sorry I never got a chance to tell you how much I-"

I drop my bags and whip around. "_What_?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

"No," I shake my head. "What did you say about…you went _back_?"

He takes a few tentative steps closer. "When I went back for you, I was too late. You'd moved on, and I-"

So much confusion swims in my head I feel as if I'm drowning in it. "When you went back for me?" I repeat ever so slowly, trying to make sense of the words. "Edward, you _never_ came back for me."

He stares at me blankly for about two seconds, and then rushes me, closing the distance between us and pulling me flush against him, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly.

"Bella, I went back for you. After my tour of duty was over, I went straight back to London."

I'm sure we must both be speaking different languages.

"Bella!" He shakes me. "Bella, I went back for you!"

"Liar," I breathe, shaking my head. "You're a liar."

"I am _not_ lying!" he says through clenched teeth, tightening his hold on me, pulling me closer still. I'm locked in his eyes, and they're wide and open and full of fire. But no, I _can't_ trust him. I can't trust _myself_.

His voice shakes when he speaks, words spilling out quickly and urgently.

"I went back, Bella. I went back to the pub because it was the only place I knew to find you, and she told me you were gone, that you didn't work there anymore. She told me you'd moved on with Tyler, that he'd come back for you and you'd left with him and never thought of me again after that weekend, and I didn't want to believe her, but I came back and you _never_ came back. I waited and I waited, Bella, but you _never_ came back!"

I can only stare at him, blinking uncomprehendingly.

"Bella!" He shakes me again. "Bella, didn't she tell you? She told me she'd told you and that you didn't care; you didn't want to see me, and I had no other way of getting in contact with you, so I-"

"You're lying," I say, my voice quivering. "You're _lying_!" I yell. "You _never_ came back!"

"Ask her!" he yells back. "Ask her, and she'll tell you! She'll have to tell you!"

"Ask WHO?"

"ROSALIE!" he spits. "Ask your friend, Rosalie!"

Blood pounds wildly in my ears, in my heart. I feel as if it may explode from the pressure.

"I have to go." I squirm in his arms, but he doesn't let go; his grip doesn't loosen. "I HAVE TO GO!"

He lets go, and I rush past him.

"Bella!" he follows me down the stairs, out of the house, and towards my car. "Bella we have to talk! I thought you knew. I thought-"

"I have to go home." My thoughts are a jumble, but one thought stands out.

Elizabeth.

"Bella, _please_," he pleads, even as I turn the car on. "Talk to me! You said we'd talk!"

I grip the steering wheel as if for dear life, trying to steady the shaking in my hands.

I was going to tell him. I was going to tell him that he was a father and destroy his political career, take him away from a country that needs him, force him to give it all up for a daughter he'd never known about, that I'd been sure he would've never wanted anyway because he'd never bothered to come back…

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817 **

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile.**

**EPOV next...**


	14. Ch 14 - Lessons My Father Taught Me

**A/N: I'm updating a day early here. If you want to know why, please read the A/N at the end. :)**

**And wow...so many strong emotions after the last chapter. Totally loved reading every single one of your thoughts.**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes helps me keep this straight.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**And the guy finally speaks...**

* * *

**Ch. 14 – Lessons My Father Taught Me**

**EPOV**

**Then: Twenty-one years ago - Edward Aged 10**

The rain pounds down hard over my shoulders; cold drops that soak my hair before seeping under the collar of the crisp, suit jacket I've been given to wear today. They send a chill throughout my whole body, trickle down my back and then ooze on down my legs and feet. In the background, the Reverend's voice drones on and on - stupid, useless words that can barely be heard over the hammering rain. I think he thinks that he's magically comforting everyone here, but I'll bet that's not the case. So while he makes his dumb speech, I stare down at the muddied ground, at the bright green grass that looks super weird against the rest of the world around me today: against grey skies, dull black suits that match my father's and mine, black dresses that match Aunt Esme's, black umbrellas.

Black casket.

When the Reverend is finally done, my mother is slowly and carefully lowered into the hole that's been dug for her. The crowd of hundreds that's come to say goodbye to Elizabeth Anne Cullen walks in a straight line, sort of like they make us do in school. Each person drops a single, white rose into the hole in the ground. Some cry, some don't. Some walk over to tell my father and me how sorry they are, how their prayers are with us, how my mother is in a better place now; some just leave without even looking our way. I watch it all as if it's a scene from a movie – a movie I would've never watched anyway.

A warm, soothing hand skims my shoulder. I know it's not my father, and it can't be my mother, not anymore. When I raise my head, Aunt Esme is looking down at me, eyes full of sorrow. My younger cousin, Jasper, is at her side, crying like a little baby but he's only six so I guess it's okay. The problem is that his tears start making my own eyes water, and then my damn bottom lip starts trembling, and I know I've gotta get a grip because my father has already warned me; not here, not in front of others.

_-"Don't ever let others read you, Edward, especially when you're hurting. The masses may sympathize with you for a while, but sympathy doesn't last. As soon as you let others read you, they'll find your weakness and exploit it." -_

So I look away from Jasper and square my shoulders, pushing the sting back and composing my features into the unreadable mask my father has taught me to wear in public.

My Aunt Esme chokes on a sob before leaning down to my eye level. "Oh, Edward, honey. It's okay to cry today. _It's okay."_

_-"You're a good boy, Edward, and someday you'll be a great man. Just always remember, my love, greatness can take many forms. I love you, Edward." -_

I shake my head stoically while the tears roll down her cheeks, and then look off to the hole in the ground where my mother now rests…

…and walk away, shoulders squared and stiff – like my father has taught me.

OOOOOOOOOO

**Then: Nine years ago - Edward Aged 22**

I've met her a few times before, when the Senator has been over for dinner, maybe once when I went to D.C. with my father, possibly another time…I'm not really sure. She's pretty, I suppose; long, strawberry blonde hair down to her waist and big blue eyes; well-proportioned in the right places. The couple of times I've spoken to her she's sounded intelligent and well-informed. Harvard Law so yeah, I suppose she's also bright beyond simply attractive.

Yet she does absolutely shit for me.

But my father insists I should ask her out – that the attraction will soon follow.

_-"It starts with attraction, Edward, but real feelings develop very slowly. They don't happen overnight. Besides, think of all the possibilities in that relationship..." -_

OOOOOOOOOO

"It simply doesn't feel right," I shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter the night after Tanya's and my third date. I find it pretty fucking sad that my father has stayed up just to ask me how it went – but that's my father. "There's nothing there."

"Be patient, Edward. Your impatience and impulsivity are your weaknesses, and if you don't watch it, someday they'll get you in trouble. Learn to think with your head, because thinking with your heart or your groin will get you nowhere."

I snort because it's not like either my heart or my groin have ever seen much action, not when I have to watch every god damned move I make in case it comes back to bite me in the ass sometime in the future.

"Besides, there are more important things than love. There are the right connections, forging the right ties, and fostering relationships that will help you reach your long-term goals."

"Jesus, when the hell did even my love-life become a way to advance our goals?"

I run a frustrated hand through my hair while my father glares at me like I'm a total idiot.

"I'm not stupid, Dad. Yes, I see your point, especially when put in the context of the goals we've been discussing for the future. I see the advantages to the relationship, but this thing with Tanya just feels like a business transaction at this point," I scowl.

"It's not all about sunshine and roses, Edward. Sometimes you do need to consider the business side of it." He holds my gaze sternly. "Look, Senator Martin and I have had a few discussions about this and-"

"Are things that slow up on the Hill that you and he have to resort to discussing my romantic affairs?"

"Stop being a smart-ass. We weren't discussing your _romantic affairs_," he stresses. "We were discussing all the potential that can come from you and Tanya in the future. Edward, you're not a kid anymore. You're about to graduate college and _now_ is the time to start taking responsibility for your future! The Cullen Legacy requires everyone to do his part, to serve his purpose, to-"

"I know the damned mantra, Dad. You've been shoving it down my throat for over a decade."

Though his outward features show absolutely no emotion, I can see the cracks in his calm exterior.

"Do you, Edward, because sometimes I wonder if you really want this? Don't you want all these goals, these possibilities we've spoken of over the past few years?"

I shut my eyes tightly and draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Yes, of course I do."

He studies me for a long minute. "Edward, you've been blessed in a way that no Cullen before you has been. Yes, we've had the name, we've had the potential and the ability to get the job done, but you've inherited your mother's charisma: her appeal, her ability to fascinate people simply by opening her mouth. At this point it's not even a choice, but your duty, your _responsibility_, Edward, to use those gifts wisely, to serve your country with those gifts. Sometimes we have to sacrifice for the greater good, and-"

"Yes, yes, yes." I cut him off with a wave of the hand and an irked huff. "I'm aware of my responsibilities to family and country, Dad. I'm aware of them every damned day of my life."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Edward…"

Aunt Esme wraps her arms around me when I stand to greet her. She wears the same exact expression my mom used to have when she was upset. Sometimes it hurts to see the similarities, but I school my features easily; it's instinctual at this point.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Aunt Esme, I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

"It's so dangerous over there, Edward. So many boys lost…"

I squeeze her shoulders reassuringly. "I'll be fine, Aunt Esme. I have to be or else who the hell will come back to fulfill the Cullen Legacy?"

She swats me playfully and I smirk, chuckling. But then she just watches me for a while, studying me. Her gaze makes me nervous because besides my mother, she's the only other person in the world who's ever been able to read me despite what mask I wear.

"Edward…you don't have to do this just to get away from your father, from Tanya, from all these ridiculous responsibilities that have been-"

"I'm not doing this just to get away from anything. Aunt Esme, I want to serve my country from more than just a comfortable oval office in the White House. There are thousands of men and women out there making the sacrifice for their country, why shouldn't I, especially if my goal is to lead this country someday. I _want_ to help. I _need_ to do my part."

She looks like she wants to argue but knows there's no point.

"Edward…" - she covers my cheek with her hand - "you know I love you like a son. I swore to your mom that I'd help take care of you, guide you; I just want your happiness. Your happiness and peace."

"I know you do, Aunt Esme," I grin crookedly.

"Don't give me that grin," she reproaches softly. "It may make every other female in this state swoon, but I can see right through it."

I smirk instead.

She sighs. "Edward, just promise me that you'll take care of yourself over there."

I pull her into a tight bear hug and she chuckles. When did she become so small in my arms?

"I will, Aunt Esme."

She pulls away and meets my gaze once more. "And Edward…remember that you don't need to run away to find real happiness and peace, okay? You just need to reach out for it."

I draw in a lungful of air. "I'll remember. I promise."

OOOOOOOOOO

Tanya and I have slept together a few times, but I don't want it to lead to that now. I've tried, God knows I've tried, and I _do_ care for her at this point…but I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to make it clear to her exactly where we stand.

Or don't.

"Tanya…" - despite my efforts, her mouth doesn't let up from mine – "Tanya..." I sigh and try again, gripping her shoulders carefully yet firmly. She finally pulls back.

"Tanya, I want to finish talking."

She sighs and sits down over the edge of my bed, looking up at me through cool blue eyes. If only there was more warmth in those eyes...

"Edward, I understand what you're saying, I really do, but you're simply putting too much expectation on us – on _this_," she stresses, waving between the both of us.

"I don't think it's too much to expect that we feel more for each other than we do at this point, and if we don't, then to just…" I shrug and put my hand outs, palms up.

She chuckles indulgently. "Edward, I care about you. Don't you care about me?"

"You know I do, Tanya, but _care_ isn't the same as _love_."

Her lips form a tight line.

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be an asshole here, or to hurt you; I just want to be honest."

She smiles, though her lips are still tightly pressed together. "And I appreciate that. I really do. You're honest and caring, and those are just a couple of reasons why you'll be a great leader someday…but you also need to learn to be _realistic_, Edward."

"I think I _am_ being realistic."

"No, you're not." She sighs. "This is about more than just you and me, Edward. I understand that. You need to understand that too. Daddy will be President in the next few years, that's a given, and he'll start taking this country in a new direction. You can learn so much from him, and then he can pass the torch on to you, and between your family and my own, we can do wonders for this country. Imagine all the possibilities…"

I stare at her, thinking about the things my father has said, the same things she's just said, and in their own way, they do make perfect sense. It would further both our families goals greatly.

"And you'd be okay with that, Tanya, with a marriage purely based on the benefits it would bring?"

She shakes her head. "It wouldn't be a marriage purely based on benefits. Edward, you and I do care for each other; that's a great start. The rest would come in time."

I exhale loudly and rake a hand through my hair.

She chuckles softly. "Look, just think about it, Edward. I really wish you weren't going away right now, but I do see the benefits to it. It'll look great on your record in the future. You see? You do know how to play the game."

I snort and nod slowly. "How could I not? I'm surrounded by the best of the best."

She chuckles. "Look, just promise me that you _will_ think about it, okay?"

_-"Let your heart be your guide, Edward."- _

Did my mom really once say that to me, or was it simply the stupid imaginations of a naïve, young boy?

_-"Think with your head, Edward, not with your heart or your groin." -_

"I'll think about it, Tanya. I promise."

OOOOOOOOOO

**Then: Six and one half years ago - Edward aged 24**

The plane touches down at Heathrow at five forty-seven p.m. local time. My mind automatically makes the time adjustments: Kabul - nine seventeen p.m., New York - eleven forty-seven a.m. After three years in the service, these time computations come naturally, the times in places that matter, that affect my life. Six months ago, the time in London didn't matter one bit; there was no reason to account for it.

Now, London is all I think of.

By six ten p.m., we've finally de-boarded. Men, women, and children all walk off anxiously, eager to be home or on vacations. A few American servicemen in uniform strut off buoyantly, snickering with one another, probably making plans for a short reprieve from the realities of their current lives – realities I know of only too well. A flashback hits me from six months ago…de-boarding a similar airplane with McCarty, James, Rivers, Michaels.

James is dead now, took a bullet in the chest from an enemy insurgent; dumb asshole wasn't wearing his vest. McCarty has a year to go on his tour of duty. Rivers' tour was up a few months ago, but there's been no word from him since he left. Michaels still has a while to go. And I'm…I'm...

I'm counting down minutes, seconds before I can explain everything to her, hoping she can forgive me, and praying that she hasn't completely given up on me…on _us._ Because there was an _us_.

There _is_ an _us_.

In the back of the black cab that races through the dark evening, I close my eyes, moving my mouth around the words that have been my companion for the past six months - words and pleas and mantras that were once foreign but have now become as familiar as those I was raised with.

"I'm so _sorry_. It was a _mistake_. Please forgive me. _Please_. It was a stupid moment of doubt, of indecision. If I could turn back time, I'd know exactly which way to choose…"

But I can't go backwards. All I can do is hope that this new mantra is enough.

I clutch my dog tags; they're around my neck out of habit more than need now. The heat seeping from them into my fingers is the only thing I have left of her -

Of my _Bella_.

OOOOOOOOOO

_A night out in London with the guys – a night of drinking and joking to relieve some of the stress we were all under. Days and nights of having a virtual fucking 'X' painted across your chest, of sleeping with one eye open, of knowing the next minute, the next second could very likely be your last was enough to drive anyone half-crazy. Originally, I'd just planned to spend the seventy-two hour leave in Kabul, but then James suggested we hop a plane to somewhere, and Rivers suggested London…and a couple of handfuls of hours later, we were in a small, hole-in-the-wall pub in some unknown part of London, so shitty and lacking in creativity that it was named for the bridge it lay under, for fuck's sake. But it was good enough; loud music and cheep beer that could help us all pretend we wouldn't be heading back to hell in a few hours…_

… _and where I could pretend that every path open to me didn't lead to another form of hell._

_She brought over the first round: long, dark hair and equally dark eyes. Warm eyes that went perfectly with warm, creamy skin. Petite. Nervous, I could tell; probably new at the job. Wouldn't look at anyone directly, just simply grinned in our general direction – a sweet, friendly grin despite the obvious jitters. _

_By the second round, I stopped paying attention to the cheap beer. _

_When she brought over the third round, she glanced my way for a split second, so miniscule that I don't even think she noticed me – yet the most spine-tingling heat suddenly rushed my entire body. _

_When she brought over the fifth round, she almost dropped the tray. I reached out to help her steady it - to force her eyes to mine__. _

_And then I touched her hand. _

"_Cullen caught another one," James joked, as if I ever paid any mind to the girls who crossed our paths anyway. And it wasn't because our jobs didn't exactly throw us in the path of many females, but because I had a legacy to fulfill, goals to reach…_

_Tanya was back home and I knew what was expected of me, the announcement my father was planning on my making once my tour of duty was over. I'd accepted it. Tanya was smart, beautiful, and yes, her father was Aro Martin. I supposed Carlisle was right; it would work well - in every way._

_But now, this weekend was my time. So fucking what if the headline might someday read '__**President Cullen Got Plastered One Night While in the Service.'**_

_Clinton smoked pot in college and got an intern to blow him under the desk in the oval office; Nixon tried to cover up Watergate; Jackson married a woman who was married to someone else, and Cleveland fathered an illegitimate child. _

_There were worse scandals than getting drunk._

_I'm still not sure why I waited for her outside the pub. I hadn't even been aware that's what I'd been doing. Inexplicably restless, I'd sent Emmett back to the hotel with James and the rest of the guys after James' moronic display, and promised to meet up with them later. Then I just…hung around…_

…_until __**she**__ stepped out – the beauty with the creamy skin and warm eyes. The restlessness disappeared, morphed into anxiousness - an inexplicable pull. She took off by herself towards the park over the bridge. It was raining and dark and what the hell was she doing walking the park alone in those conditions? _

_I only meant to make sure she was okay._

_I only meant to talk to her for a short while – she had the most fascinating accent - to walk around the park..._

_I couldn't help reaching out for her hand, and the thing is, she __**let**__ me take it. Sweet and shy and obviously apprehensive, but she seemed to…__**trust**__ me almost instinctively…_

_I didn't intend to kiss her, but when her hand met mine…when her soft body landed on my lap…when my mouth tasted her mouth…_

_We walked and talked, and the hours passed, and I wasn't ready to give her up. Selfish? Maybe, because yes damn it, all the while I knew of everyone's expectations - my father's, Tanya's, Senator Martin's, the entire damn __**world's**__. _

_But then she looked up at me, her eyes confused yet full of that __**trust**__…_

_**Why**__ did she trust me so much? Why did __**I**__ trust her? Why could I speak to her about things I'd never spoken to anyone about before?_

_You don't just give anyone your trust – my father taught me that. _

_I accepted her trust; more than that, I craved it. Somehow, in her eyes, I saw a different reflection from the one that had greeted me every damned day for the past twenty-two years of my life. There was an innocence in that reflection that I'd never seen; never felt. There was hope. There was the possibility for **more** than what had always been expected of me. _

_In her eyes, I saw the reflection of the man I __**wanted**__ to be: I saw the reflection of my mother's son._

_By the next morning, I knew I could __**never**__ give her up._

_Yet the fucking expectations were still there. I'd been groomed to play a specific role, to take responsibility for not just a family, but for an entire country. I'd accepted that responsibility. I'd looked __**forward**__ to it._

_But Bella was my purity, my innocence, my humility; a side of me I'd never known existed. Yes, I still wanted those responsibilities, but I'd accept them with Bella by my side. _

_When I made love to her, when I heard her sweet moans and gentle exclamations of my name, and felt her all-consuming warmth, I knew I'd __**never**__ make love to anyone else again. How could someone open themselves to you so completely, in every possible way; share their purity and innocence with you, __**trust **__you with so much? Bella had done just that, and what more could I ever ask for, ever need? So I accepted her gift gratefully._

_I accepted it over and over again._

_And I lied to her too._

_I hadn't told her about Tanya, and so I'd already tainted our relationship with lies, and like the politician I'd been groomed to become, I was waiting until the last minute to come clean. To tell her that I'd allowed my father to not only control my public life, but my private one as well. That Tanya and I had begun dating right before I left for the service, but it had been made very clear to me by my father that he expected our courtship to result in marriage. This was the way my family operated, and I hadn't known any better until meeting her. _

_I had excuse after excuse planned, ending it all with the assurance that I'd fallen in love with her, and if she could forgive me, I wanted to bring her back to the States with me; get to the top with __**her**__ by my side – even if it did take longer, even if I did have to struggle. _

_She'd forgive me. _

_I could see it in her face every time she looked at me: that purity, that innocence, that __**trust. **__Yes, I felt like a huge asshole for doing things backwards with her because she __**deserved**__ better; she deserved the world at her feet, but she'd forgive my past and the way I'd kept it from her, the way I'd lied to her, the way I'd taken her __**innocence**__ with those lies. She'd put it behind us because she felt what I felt. I knew that. No, I didn't deserve her, I knew that too. I was arrogant and self-serving, but she'd teach me how to be good, how to be the man she deserved, how to be the man my mother had tried to mold me into. Like my Aunt Esme once said, I was reaching out for happiness. It was in my grasp._

_So I ignored my father's insults, his assurances that I was ruining everything, that I was forsaking the Cullen Legacy. Then, I simply ignored his phone calls._

_Because I had it all figured out._

_Until with one phone call, I didn't. _

OOOOOOOOOO

"_Edward, this is Senator Martin. I'm calling to let you know that I've issued a statement announcing your engagement to my daughter."_

_My heart stopped. "What? How is that even **possible**? Senator, I'm sorry, but your daughter and I never came to any actual agreement." _

"_Edward," the Senator sighed, "Edward, I spoke to your father late last night. He told me you've been having…issues. I think this will work well for everyone involved, as well as help to clear your mind."_

_I sat there, stunned, before Tanya came on the line._

"_Edward, did Daddy tell you the news?"_

_She sounded so…dispassionate, so cool and clinical, and I realized that __**this**__ was my entire world. __**This**__ lack of passion, of reality, was what I came from. What had made me think that I could actually reach out for happiness? It wasn't that easy. Not for me._

_**This**__ was my world._

"_Tanya, I never proposed to you."_

_She was silent for a few seconds. "Edward, do you remember when you made me a promise?"_

"_I promised you I'd think about it!" I hissed. "I never-"_

"_You made me promises that I've been counting on! You have responsibilities to me and to your family, and to the country, Edward! Can you imagine the scandal if you were to disregard those now?"_

_I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly, my father's constant mantra circling in my head. _

_**The Cullen Legacy requires everyone to do his part, to serve his purpose, to avoid scandal and disgrace at all costs…**_

"_Tanya, I've…I've met someone…someone real…"_

_More silence, and then she sighed. "Edward, you're off in the service, under so much stress. Of course I understand. You've met some girl willing to keep you warm for a few days, but it's not real, Edward," she insisted. "__**This**__, what you have waiting for you here in New York and D.C, the future you have at your disposal, that's what's real. The political future we'll have together, that's __**real**__." _

_I yanked at my hair. "Tanya…Tanya, I can't. I'm sorry."_

_And then the Senator came back on the line. "Edward, what seems to be the issue?"_

"_Senator…Sir...I apologize, but you and my father should __**not**__ have announced that engagement without discussing it with me first."_

_He sighed into the phone. "Perhaps we shouldn't have, but it's done now, and you know these things can't be undone easily."_

"_I can't-"_

"_Edward, listen to me for a second. I want you to think for a moment. I know you're a very responsible young man. Your father and I have had many discussions on this - how well you understand the meaning of responsibility not just to yourself or to another individual, but to a legacy, to a country, Edward. This isn't just about what you may want or think at the moment that you want. You have a greater responsibility than that! Think of how this country needs you, needs __**us**__, Edward!"_

_He paused, and with his silence, I felt my chest constricting, my choices fading... _

"_Look at the hands this country is in right now; look at the direction we're being led! We won't survive the decade under the current leadership, much less the century, young man. The proper leadership must be put in place, and __**you**__ are part of that leadership! Would you sacrifice an entire country, an entire world for one…weekend?"_

"_Is that a threat, Sir?" I hissed, though I knew the answer. _

"_No, Edward. I'm not threatening you," he replied, his voice sounding simply tired. "I would never threaten you. I'm simply telling you how it is. If you can't show true responsibility, then I can't, in good conscience, ever back you in the future."_

_With that, Senator Aro Martin all but extinguished the only dream I'd ever had, the one I'd been preparing for my entire life, the only thing I'd been taught mattered._

_And then the line went dead._

_And Bella walked out of the bathroom._

_And my mind was in total chaos, and…_

_**-"Don't ever let others read you, Edward, especially when you're hurting..." -**_

_And somehow - I'm not even sure how… I lost. Everything. _

_I lost__** her**__._

OOOOOOOOOO

Now six months later, I stand out in the rain, duffel thrown over my shoulder while drops pelt against my cap and bounce off of my boots as I stare at the small, hole-in-the-wall bar; the place where I found my heart – only to turn around and break hers.

My chest expands and contracts, heart beating as erratically as it ever did while in combat. No, unlike those in Afghanistan, I won't die if I fail at _this_ mission.

But I'm not sure how I'll survive it.

OOOOOOOOOO

My heart chokes off my throat as I walk in, leaving it as dry as during those long days and nights spent fighting combatants; dismantling explosives. My anxious eyes immediately search the old, darkened, mostly-empty space for the petite girl with dark hair and warm skin, and eyes that have both haunted me and kept me going for six long months.

It takes me four seconds to determine that she's not out here, but I recognize the blonde behind the bar.

With measured, even steps I walk over, drawing in a deep breath to regulate my breathing, the way my father taught me to do, so that my voice doesn't tremble, so that I appear calm and composed.

She looks up as she sees me approaching and narrows her eyes, cocking her head to the side.

"May I please speak with Bella?"

Her eyes widen, nostrils flare slightly.

"Bella isn't here. Who's looking for her?"

"Rosalie, right?"

"Yeah," she nods tightly.

"I'm Edward. Edward Cullen."

I'm not sure what I'm expecting, but she simply holds my gaze stonily for a few seconds before cocking her head to the other side.

"What do you want?"

"I want to see Bella."

"Bella doesn't work here anymore."

I exhale through narrowed lips. "Can you tell me where I can find her?"

She sneers. "No, I can't."

My jaw clenches. "Look, I know she's probably…upset at me-"

"Upset at you?" she cuts me off with a snort. "Edward Cullen, you say? Yeah," she grins, "I remember the name. No, Love, Bella's not upset at you."

A cool smile rounds out her face while her words and expression send a chill down my spine. She looks back down and resumes cleaning the bar.

I take another deep breath, quietly - just as my father taught me.

"Can you please let me know where to find Bella?"

Rosalie sighs, and looks up once more. "I wouldn't know where _exactly_ to find her, Love. She's off in Liverpool _somewhere_, that's about all I know."

"Liverpool?"

"Yeah, with Tyler, her boyfriend."

"That's not true."

She looks back up at me and smirks. "'Course it's true. Why in the world would I lie?"

I glare at her. "Where. Is. Bella?"

Her grin is salacious. "Come back for another go, have you? She'll be disappointed to know she's missed you, Love. Taught her a whole lot, you did. I'm sure Tyler's grateful right now," she chuckles.

"Can I have her phone number?"

"Now why in the world would I give you her phone number?" she smiles. "You're practically a stranger! Spent what? A weekend was it with her? And Tyler's a bloody jealous git too, wouldn't like Bella getting calls from strange blokes, I'll tell you that much."

My heart pounds wildly in my chest. I search her eyes, looking for the lie, but she grins coolly at me. Hands shake at my sides. I grind them into fists to hide their quaking – just as my father taught me.

"If all of that is true, give me her phone number. I'll just give her a quick call and if she doesn't want to speak to me, she can hang right up."

"Sorry, Love, but how can I in good conscience give some bloke, who's a total stranger, Bella's number?"

"I'm _not_ a total stranger," I hiss through clenched teeth.

"A coupla good shags doesn't exactly make you her soul mate now, does it?"

"Just her phone number. Please."

"Sorry, I can't. Tyler would kill me."

She's lying.

_-"Have you ever been in love, Bella?" -_

_-"'I thought I was a few months back. I was dating this guy, Tyler, but then he left for Liverpool…" -_

She's fucking lying.

"Tell me where Bella is, give me her phone number, or at least tell me her full name."

"Wait, you don't even know her full name?" She chuckles and leans into the counter. "Now if she never gave you her full name, don't you think there was a reason for that?"

Pain lances through my chest - like a bullet without the armor. Her smile is amused, as if she's just greatly enjoyed saying those words.

"There was…" my chest heaves erratically. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep up the façade of calmness – "…there was a misunderstanding. I need to clear it up."

She cocks her head sideways again, studying my face.

Instinctively, my mask goes up – my inner armor.

"A misunderstanding…what exactly was the misunderstanding?"

"It's personal."

She continues studying me, her eyes narrowing into slits…

_-"Don't let them read you…" –_

Finally, Rosalie nods slowly. "Yeah…yeah, come to think of it, I do think I remember her being quite cheesed off when she got home after that weekend." She smirks. "But I really doubt she's got any interest in rehashing it, so don't worry about it, Love."

I can't think straight. My brain spins around; all the focusing techniques I've been taught by my father and the military are quickly becoming useless.

I lean into the counter coolly. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me how to find Bella. I'll wait around this bar for the rest of the night if I have to."

She holds my gaze, looking into one eye and then the other, and then shrugs.

"Suit yourself. It's a slow night."

OOOOOOOOOO

I follow her home, her and the dark-haired girl.

_-"Rose and Leah and I share a flat to cut down expenses…" -_

They walk quickly and quietly. I follow them stealthily up the steps to their third floor walk-up. I listen for Bella, but hear nothing.

The next morning, I'm outside as Rosalie and Leah emerge from the building. Bella isn't with them. I wait around…

That afternoon, I show up at the bar again.

"Just let me speak to her. You can dial the number and hand me the phone."

"Edward," Rosalie purses her lips. "I spoke to her last night and told her I'd seen you. She said she has no interest in speaking to you."

"That's not true," I hiss. "She wants to see me; I know she does."

Rosalie snorts and shakes her head.

I walk over to Leah, who's filling a couple of mugs.

"You're Leah."

She looks at me warily. "Yes."

"Tell me where I can find Bella. Please."

The answer comes quick and automatic. "She's living with her boyfriend, Tyler, up in Liverpool."

"That's a lie," I say through clenched teeth.

"No, it's not," Rosalie answers firmly. "Bella's moved on. There's no reason for you to hang about here.

"Let me speak to her. Let her tell me that herself."

"She doesn't _want_ me to give you her contact information. She doesn't _want_ to see you, Edward. Look, you both had your fun, but she's simply _not_ interested in a repeat."

My nostrils flare. "I don't believe you. You're lying."

"Believe what you want. If you have nothing better to do than wait round, that's fine. You can continue waiting 'til you grow bored again, but she's not showing up. _She doesn't work here anymore. She doesn't live in London anymore," _Rosalie stresses. "She's gone. She's with Tyler and she's happy, and that's all there is to it."

OOOOOOOOOO

After four days, I call Jasper.

"Edward, thank God! Your father's going crazy! Senator Martin is ready to-"

"Jasper, I need you to do me a big favor, between us. I need you to find me someone who knows how to find people."

OOOOOOOOOO

Jasper calls me back a couple of hours later.

"I found someone. Edward…when are you coming home? Senator Martin and your father-"

"I don't give a fuck about the Senator and my father. Give me the number."

OOOOOOOOOO

I return to the pub one more time – a week later, after Jenks has told me that it's useless; you can't find someone with so little information, especially when she apparently doesn't _want_ to be found.

She's moved on – with Tyler. We had our _fun_, and she's moved on.

Rosalie holds my gaze warily as I approach her.

"Just…just tell her that I'm sorry; that I never meant to lie to her, or to hurt her. Tell her that I…that I…"

My eyes sting so badly I'm not sure I'll be able to hold the tears back this time.

'_Don't ever let others read you, Edward, especially when you're hurting..." _

I turn around and walk out, shoulders squared and stiff, head held high – just like my father taught me.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**So, the zombie apocalypse prophet's little sister is doing her First Communion this weekend, so it'll be another hectic one. Hope you enjoyed the early update. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**

**And next week...well, yeah...stay tuned babes...**


	15. Chapter 15 - The SUV

**A/N: Alright guys, just read on, and we'll talk at the end. **

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Ch. 15 – The SUV**

**Now:**

The first flight they can get me on out of JFK leaves at three in the afternoon. I consider calling Michael to see if he can do anything for me, or if he has a jet available at JFK. In the end, I decide not to get him involved. If he asks any questions, I'll have no answers for him. I'm nervous and frightened and so angry for getting Ellie and myself in this situation. I should've never come to the U.S.; I should've listened to Rose and just-

Rose.

I can't think of Rose. Not yet.

I call my mum while we're waiting on the tarmac and let her know that I'll be home earlier than I'd planned.

"That's brilliant, Bella! Ellie will be thrilled!"

"Mum…" My voice shakes. "Is Ellie alright?"

"Ellie's just fine, Love." She pauses. "Bella, is everything okay with you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut tight as tears of anger and bewilderment and reproach slide down my cheeks. A thousand and one uncertainties plague my mind.

Carlisle knows about Elizabeth.

Edward claims he came back for me.

I've yet to tell him about our daughter.

He claims Rosalie knew he came back. She knew and told him I didn't want him anymore.

"Mum, can you do me a favor? Can you ring Rose for me and tell her that I need to speak to her? Tell her to wait for me round her place. I should be there early, about six or so."

"Of course. Bella, what's going on?"

"Just…keep Ellie close by, alright? I'll be home as soon as possible."

"Bella, you're worrying me."

"Mum, I'll explain everything when I'm home."

OOOOOOOOOO

'_I went back, Bella! I went back!'_

The words circle round and round my head, whether my eyes are open or whether I try to close them. I try to work on the article because I've always been able to lose myself in my work before, but this time, it doesn't work.

'_I went back, Bella!'_

He's lying.

Of course he's lying. I'll ask Rose, she'll confirm she never saw him, and I'll know without a doubt what a liar he is, and when I fly back to America next week-end and tell him about our daughter, it'll be because I owe it to _her, _because she deserves a chance at her heritage, at _her_ legacy.

With everything tormenting me I've forgotten to make reservations for a car, so I take a cab into Essex, driving down the familiar roads. They soothe and calm me. I guide the cab driver to a house a couple of miles down from my mum's, to a small brown Tudor that's the only thing Rose's mum ever gave her; the house she inherited when her mum passed from Cirrhosis.

"Please wait here," I instruct the cab driver, though Rose can easily drive me back, but...

My feet feel heavy as bricks as I make my way up the small, narrow walkway; once plain and drab, but now lined with pretty, red roses and yellow tulips that Rose, my mum, Alice, Ellie and I spent hours planting last year. I fix my eyes on Rose's door, decorated with the fresh flower wreath she's made with her garden flowers. My heart beats roughly against my ribcage. With each step, I feel a deep fury building inside, directed towards Edward because his lies once made me doubt myself and now they're making me doubt Rose – who's _always_ been there for me; who's my sister in every way that counts.

He's lying. Of course he's lying.

She opens the door before I reach it; face wary, blond hair a mess about her head, eyes rimmed in red...

I come to a stop, dropping my shoulders; tired and heartsick because I've known Rose since I was six; I know all her expressions, and the guilt etched across her face answers my question before I even ask it.

"Please. _Please_ just tell me it's not true."

Her ensuing silence simply confirms it all.

I drop my head heavily and shake it from side to side. "Oh, Rose. Rose…" I choke out.

"You were in the hospital, Bella," she flares, her voice shaking defensively. "In pre-term labor because you were trying so desperately to keep your mind off of him that you were working yourself to the bone and stressing yourself out!"

"You had no-"

"What was I supposed to do when he sauntered into the pub that day?" she yells. "After the way he left you, after the things he _said_ to you, the things his _father_ said to you?! After months of watching you cry yourself to sleep night after night! There was no apology in his face! No regret! You were nothing but a game to him, Bella, and I wasn't going to let him play with you again! You're my best friend – _my sister_!"

I shut my eyes tight.

My sister.

I open my eyes back up. My voice starts at a whisper, but with each word the consequences of what she's done bombard me and my volume rises in pitch and tone.

"He's not easy to read, Rose, and…and…and you had no right to keep that to yourself for all these years. _For all these years!_ How could you _not_ have TOLD ME?!"

"Told you for what? Bella, he got married just three months after that! Does that sound like the actions of a heartbroken man? He obviously moved on pretty quickly. I simply wanted you to do the same! "

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT!" I shout, ignoring her excuses. "I was having his _child_!"

"A child you were in danger of losing because you were so bloody heartbroken!" she shouts right back. "He would've played his games again and then left you worse off than before! He had his legacy to live up to, Bella, you told me so yourself! _And_ a fiancée waiting for him back home! He would've never chosen you _or_ Elizabeth over her or the future she secured him!"

"HE IS HER FATHER! SHE HAD A RIGHT TO KNOW HIM IF HE CAME BACK FOR HER!"

"BELLA, HE DIDN'T COME BACK FOR HER! He came back to play games! He would've run the other way faster than you can say 'scandal' had he seen you in the condition you were in! And then where would you have been? Even more bloody heartbroken than before and possibly…without Ellie," she murmurs in horror. "Bleeding hell, he was married less than three months later!" she screeches. "What does that _tell_ you, Bella?"

"No. NO!" I shut my eyes tight once more; cover my ears. "No," I repeat, trying desperately to think straight. "Regardless of what he went back and did, it doesn't justify what _you've_ done! What you've kept from me for years! It doesn't justify you taking away _my_ choices or Ellie's chance to know her father!"

Because right now, that's all I know; no matter what Edward's true intentions may have been, Rose should've told me. She should've told me because now I'll _never_ know what his true intentions were.

"That doesn't justify it."

Something else hits me. I drop my hands and glare up at her.

"That's why you didn't want me to go to the U.S., isn't it? Why you didn't want me to see him; because you knew this would come out. You knew I'd find out. You _dodgy bitch_!"

Her nostrils flare. "No, Bella. I didn't want you to see him because I knew you'd be just as taken in by him this time as you were then. I knew you'd believe his lies about how sorry he is; how he would've stayed with you. That's what he's been telling you, isn't it?"

I glower at her, unable to deny it.

She snorts. "It's so easy for him to say all that now, when _everything_ is within his grasp. I knew that you would've _never_ been able to resist him."

Her words cut me to the quick. "Is that how little faith you've always had in me? That you think I can be taken in so easily? That I'm incapable of making the right decision, the right choices for my daughter as well as myself? All this time, I thought we were sisters! I thought we were equals, but it turns out that _you've_ been the one playing god!" I sneer.

"I wasn't playing god, Bella! I did it for your own good because you've been bloody blind to _his_ games since the second you met him!"

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" I snicker. "That you did this for my own good? That you kept the truth from me for almost _seven years_ for my own good! _Six_ years of seeing my daughter grow up and spend every single birthday without her father for MY OWN GOOD?!"

She doesn't answer me.

"No, Rose," I say tiredly. "No matter what you say, you took away my choice; you took away _her_ right."

"He would've just hurt you again," she sobs quietly, refusing to back down. "I didn't want him to hurt you or the baby. And Jake was being so good to you."

"JAKE WASN'T HER FATHER!" I shriek, gripping the top of my head. "That's why I let him go! Jake wasn't the one-" I stop and press my lips together angrily.

"Jake wasn't the one you wanted," she finishes for me anyway, because Rose knows me like the back of her hand. The same way I once thought I knew her.

"You had no right," I repeat while tears stream down my face. "You had no right. You were my _sister_. My fucking sister!" I cry out. "I trusted you with my _life_, with my _daughter's_ life! I've always trusted you to do what's best for her! I've trusted you to act as her goddamned mother in my absence! And you…you…you had no right to take him away from her," I sob. "Sister? I wouldn't have expected this from my worst _enemy_!"

I turn round and sprint back to the waiting cab.

"Bella!" she calls out. "Bloody hell, Bella!"

OOOOOOOOOO

The cab makes its way down the narrow streets of Leigh. In less than five minutes we're turning my corner. I can see Rose's car in the rearview mirror. My heart rattles in my chest because I don't want to argue with her in front of my mother or Ellie. Images of she and I running round my mum's garden when we were little girls, while baby Alice tried to chase us, circle round my head. I cradle my head in my hands.

I don't _want_ this betrayal to destroy us, but at the same time I _can't_ see how we'll survive it.

She's been _lying_ to me for almost seven years.

We're both angry and for the sake of what used to be our friendship, I glare at her car, hoping she sees my fury, praying that she changes her mind and turns back round. I know myself when I'm this angry; I can't think straight; I say things…I do things…

But she doesn't turn round. When the cab stops in front of my house, she parks a few meters behind it; not directly in back because there's a large, black SUV in the space right behind the cab and there isn't enough room on our block for two cars to park alongside one another. The SUV is actually taking up quite a bit of space. The tinted windows prevent me from seeing who's in it, but it can't be someone from round here; we know better than to try to navigate that size of car round these streets.

My heart is still racing, even faster now because that SUV does _not_ belong round here.

When I step out of the cab, a few things happen in quick succession:

Rose steps out of her car.

The door to my mum's house flies open and Ellie comes running out, still in her white, cotton pajamas; ones with a pink monkey on the front and on one of the trouser legs. She holds her favorite teddy bear in her arms while her long, copper hair waves in the morning breeze as she runs to me, calling out for me and wrapping her small arms round my waist.

"Mummy! You're home! You're home!" she exclaims elatedly. Instinctively, I pick her up and she buries her face against my shoulder.

My mum emerges from the house; her eyes quickly trail from me to the black SUV, a few meters away and _so_ out of place.

Both front doors to the SUV open. My eyes flash towards the driver: Emmett.

Heart in throat, I slowly look towards the passenger.

_Edward_.

Edward.

Time passes in perfect slow motion; an endless moment in which no one moves, no one breathes.

Ellie is the first to shift. Unaware of what's occurring, she picks her head up and looks at me, and though I'm not sure what she sees in my expression, whatever it is makes her turn her small face round – right towards Edward.

When I hear his sharp intake of breath I know exactly what he's seeing - of course I know. I've looked into those emerald eyes every day for the past six years of my life; I _know_ they're pure Cullen.

An entire lifetime transpires while we all simply stand there, all eyes on the little girl and the man locked in each other's gazes.

It's not until Edward takes a couple of steps forward that I snap out of my frozen state.

"Mum, take Ellie inside, please," I whisper urgently, my eyes on Edward.

He must hear me, because he flashes bewildered eyes my way quickly before turning them back to Ellie. My daughter doesn't shift her eyes from him.

He takes a couple more steps forward.

My mum hasn't yet appeared. "Mum!" I hiss.

All at once, she's at my side, trying to coax Ellie out of my arms and into hers.

"Come, Ellie, let's go inside for a moment. Mummy will be right in," she coos gently.

Ellie doesn't loosen her hold on me, doesn't turn away from Edward.

I force my eyes away from Edward and to my daughter.

"Ellie, darling," I murmur gently, and then _finally_, finally she snaps out of her fascination with the man a couple of meters away and looks at me. Her emerald eyes are wide with wonder.

"Ellie, go inside with Nanny. I'll be right in, okay?"

Her little brows scrunch together. "Mummy, who is that man?"

My heart thumps. I swallow thickly. "Ellie," I whisper, "go inside with Nanny. I'll be right in."

She holds my gaze curiously for a few moments, but when my mum once again tries to take her, she lets her. Still, her eyes trail to Edward once more as she's being guided away, rapt; locked on him until the door shuts.

The door has closed, but Edward's eyes don't move. It's as if they're melded to where Ellie has just disappeared from. When he does turn his eyes my way, he looks stupefied, positively ragged. I stand there frozen and watch as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down more than a few times, while his hand grips his hair, while his dazed eyes continue the trail back and forth from the door to me - back and forth, back and forth.

And then he takes the last remaining steps, coming to a stop in front of me.

My heart races, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

I wait. I can do nothing else but wait.

He tries again, looking beyond me while his shaky words finally come out. At first they're more like unconnected, incohesive, random thoughts.

"I…I sent Emmett to London. I thought there had to be…more…there was just so much _anger_ in you, Bella, but I _knew…_of course I knew how badly I'd messed things up with you…every single day of my life since then I've wished I could go back to that moment, to tell you…though it had only been one weekend, I _knew_ you and you'd never hurt me…not like you were threatening to do…It simply wasn't in you. I wasn't scared of you, Bella, but not because I felt cocky, the way you kept accusing me, but because I was so god-damned _elated_ to have you near me again – even if it was this different, harder version of you." He quickly meets my eyes. "I didn't _want_ to send him," he says, as if he's trying to apologize, "to interfere in your private life after what I'd done…but this time I _had_ to know what I was missing…_if_ I was missing something. And now…"

He grips his hair so hard it looks as if he may pull it out from the roots.

I swallow thickly, my nails digging into my palms; cutting through skin. I can barely focus on what he's saying, on what his words mean. At some other point in time, perhaps I'll go back and examine them, but at this instant, all I can think of is that he knows about Ellie. He knows.

He knows about our daughter – and I have no idea what this means now.

"Emmett called me yesterday a few minutes after you drove off," he continues. "He said I _had_ to come to the U.K." He stops and snorts. "As if I wasn't already on my way. But he wouldn't…" – he draws in a deep, ragged, uneven breath - "…he wouldn't tell me why…said he couldn't tell me over the phone. _Bella..._" he breathes, shutting his eyes; so much agitation and turmoil surrounding him that his entire body vibrates with it. I've never in my life imagined him capable of this.

He releases a long breath through narrowed lips, opening his eyes once more. They're dark and wary, his voice much more composed when he speaks.

"Bella, what the hell is going on?"

I hold his gaze, but am unable to answer him.

He pulls in another lungful of air, chest rising and falling harshly, eyes locked on mine before trailing to the closed door once more and back to me - over and over.

And then he does the last thing that a week ago, I would've ever expected him to do.

Edward moves around me - and rushes towards the door.

"Edward, what are you doing? Where are you going?" I breathe quickly and anxiously, close at his heels.

He doesn't answer, simply keeps walking determinedly towards the door.

"Edward!" I hiss, and hustle in front of him, blocking his way.

"Bella, move out of the way," he murmurs almost absently, eyes firmly on the door as if in some sort of trance. "I want to see her. I want…"

I feel my indignant fury returning; my protective instincts taking over.

Whether Edward came back or not and what exactly that may mean is something I'll have to think about later, but it doesn't change the fact that this man coldly stomped on my heart one day, that he blew into my life like a whirlwind – and out of it like a hurricane without warning.

I refuse to let him do that to my daughter.

"You want what? What _exactly_ do you want?"

He doesn't answer me, just keeps staring at the door.

"You don't know what you want, Edward! You _never_ have!"

He stands there with his eyes glued to the door, nostrils flaring, but doesn't respond.

"_This_ is not a game, Edward!" I say through clenched teeth, glaring up at him. "You can't walk through that door on a whim, or simply to satisfy your curiosity! You can't enter this world for a few hours and then be on your way until you figure out what exactly it _is_ that you want! _She_ is _not_ a game!"

"SHE'S MY DAUGHTER!" he howls, so forcefully that it shocks me into retreat. I take a couple of steps back while he locks me inside his furious gaze; eyes burning with a fire I've never seen before.

He stalks over to me, but then suddenly staggers backwards.

"Jesus. Jesus, she's my…she's my _daughter_," he reiterates in a choked voice, as if he's _just_ realized what's actually occurred here.

After a few seconds, he straightens up and glares down at me again, his breathing hard and erratic, but I won't cower down to him. I bowed to his will unquestioningly once and ended up hurt beyond words. I _won't_ let him do it to my daughter.

"Bella, I want to see her. Please move out of the way."

My pulse races wildly. "Edward," I say, drawing in a deep breath to calm myself, to think through my words. "Edward, I think you should leave now. Take some time to calm down and think about-"

"_What_?" he exclaims wildly. "Leave? You expect me to _leave_?"

"Think about what you're doing!" I spit. "For once, stop being so goddamned selfish and think about how your actions may affect others besides yourself!"

He straightens himself up, clearly offended.

"You can't walk in there, get to know her for a few hours or a few days, and then be off! Or simply go back to business as usual! That's _not_ how it'll work this time! I won't let you break _her_ heart! And the alternative would mean you'd have to give everything up, Edward! _Everything_! Stop and think about that and you'll see it as clearly as I do! Your senatorial aspirations, any future bid for the White House, all of that would blow up in your face when we both know that's what you've _always_ wanted!"

He staggers backwards, eyes wild as if I've just slapped him, scowling incredulously.

"What I've…what I've always wanted? I came back for you!" he shouts. "I came back for you and…and you were hiding my daughter?" he hisses in disbelief, his features hardening. "You don't know me at all, Bella, if you think for a moment that I'm just going to turn around and leave! Now move out of the way and let me see her!"

"I was _never_ hiding," I seethe shakily.

His eyes flare. "Bella, move out of my way."

"Edward, leave. Now."

"Bella!"

"Edward," a voice suddenly calls out behind him - Emmett. Edward doesn't turn.

"Edward, Bella is right. We should go - for now," he says firmly. "You _both_ need to calm down and think."

Edward still doesn't budge.

"Edward, listen to Emmett. It's been a hectic twenty-four hours - for the both of us."

"No," he growls defiantly.

I'm shaking so badly I can't even see straight anymore.

"Edward," Emmett says lowly. "Look man, I know you're confused, but think of the little girl. This isn't the way you want her to see you."

His chest heaves. He closes his eyes and I can tell that he's torn, but he knows how dangerous it is for him to remain here, on my doorstep, arguing.

"Go, Edward. Think about what you really want to happen here, because if you ever walk into this house, then you'd better be ready to give everything else up. There's no trial period here. No testing the waters. I _won't_ let you play with her – not for one single moment. You don't get to have a peak into her life and then walk away until you decide what you really want, nor will I allow you to keep her as your dirty little secret. With _her_, it _has_ to be all or nothing."

He stands there rigidly, furiously gazing down at me, but then Emmett reaches out and puts a heavy hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

"Edward, let's go."

Eyes still firmly on mine, Edward starts turning away…

He jerks forward once more, quickly. "I'm sorry, Bella," he hisses, "for the lies, for my moment of indecision; for being so fucking weak. You didn't deserve any of it and I'm so damned sorry for everything." His jaw clenches tightly before he speaks again. "But I'm _not_ that weak man anymore, Bella, and I _will_ be back. Don't doubt _that_ for a second."

He slowly turns and begins to walk away, only to stop once more, this time facing in the direction where Rosalie still stands stiffly by her car. I'm not sure what expression he's wearing, but it's enough to make Rose's lip quiver sharply. I can see her body racking with sobs from here.

Emmett reaches out for his shoulder again, and after a few seconds, he resumes his quick, confident pace and gets into the SUV without another glance back. When they drive off, tires screech in their wake.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

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**The next 'Then' chapter will once again be EPOV. There are three "Then" chapters left, and then we'll be all in the present. I know some of you are anxious for that, but it's important to know what happened 'then' to fully understand the 'now.' :)**

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	16. Ch 16 The Ties That Bind Us

**A/N: I'm updating a day early here for my Facebook girls, who asked (and asked, and asked) so sweetly. LOL. And also for one specific girlie in Australia who's celebrating a birthday Friday! I think it's already Friday there, isn't it? **

**Happy B'day! ****Hope you enjoy my tiny present to you!**

**Betad by my other girl, here in the U.S., Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Ch. 16 – The Ties That Bind Us**

**EPOV**

**Then:**

**Five years ago - Edward: Aged 26**

The doorman calls up and announces a visitor. I grin to myself as I hang up the phone. Three minutes later, the doorbell rings.

"Emmett, man," I clap him on the shoulder before we both give in and end up awkwardly hugging and then chuckling. "You made it out."

"Yeah," he grins. "I made it out. Had a couple of close calls there, but…" – he shrugs – "guess I'm not good enough to die young."

"Asshole," I chuckle, because I'm used to his joking; it's good to hear again. On more than a few occasions, he kept our spirits from sinking into the fucking dirt out there.

He walks in, and for the first time in over a year, I feel something close to camaraderie.

OOOOOOOOOO

We sit around and catch up, have a couple of drinks.

"I've got two more years of Law school, then I'll take the bar, and then…" - I shrug and grin; the content, successful grin I've mastered over the past year.

"Still planning on running for office?"

"That's _always_ been the plan."

Still grinning.

I lie back comfortably against the black leather chair, cross one leg casually over the other; drink my whisky sour.

Emmett nods slowly, holding my gaze.

It starts making me uncomfortable.

I drop both legs back down and lean forward, clearing my throat. "And how about you, man? What are you planning to do now that you're out of the service?"

"Well," – he leans forward too, forearms resting on his spread legs, and knits his hands together – "I'm actually off to Quantico in a couple of weeks."

"Oh yeah? Good for you, man." – I raise my glass to him – "I do recall you talking about that. Let me know if you need a good word put in or something. I can speak to my father."

He narrows his eyes, a faint smile across his face. "Sure…thanks."

"No problem."

We sit silently for a few seconds.

"So, Edward, what happened with Bella?"

"_Don't ever let others read you, Edward…" _

I paste a bland, detached smirk across my face, and stare deep into my glass.

"I went back to London once my tour of duty was up, like I told you I planned to…and she was…gone. Moved off to Liverpool or some shit with an ex-boyfriend." I shrug and look up - grinning. "Thank God; sure saved me from making a big mistake."

"Did it?" he asks, expression as blank as mine. "I thought you said you loved her, that you'd made the biggest mistake of your life by letting her get away, that you'd do whatever it took to get her to forgive you. More than once I was tempted to let one of those road bombs simply detonate just to shut you up." He grins.

"Fuck you," I snort.

He simply stares at me. "Did you try finding her?"

I clench my jaw tightly, my expression calm and composed, and give one quick nod before staring down at my glass again.

"The P.I. I used couldn't find her. Not enough information to go by."

"Seriously?" he snorts. "Where'd you get him, the Yellow Pages? Look, if you want, I can try to-"

I whip my head up quickly. "Try to what, Emmett? I'm back on track now: married to the daughter of the future President of the United States, doing great in Law School, my father plans to retire as soon as I earn my degree so that I can run for his seat. Everything's going just as was always planned."

He stares at me again before finishing off his drink in one gulp. "Sounds peachy."

I copy him and drain the rest of my glass in one go. "It is."

OOOOOOOOOO

We make some more small talk for a while, but it's stunted and stiff, as if there's more we both want to say, but won't.

When the front door opens I stand up and Emmett follows suit. Tanya saunters towards us, her black leather briefcase held comfortably at her side.

"Emmett, this is my wife, Tanya. Tanya, this is my buddy from the service, Emmett. I've mentioned him to you."

They shake hands. Tanya's eyes narrow as she pretends to search her memory.

"Oh, yes, I do remember you mentioning him."

Bullshit. I've never mentioned him to her. Other than the few words we exchanged over the phone while I was in that hotel room in London, I've never spoken to her about anything that went on during my time in the service. We talk about Law and politics, current events, and have occasional sex - and that's about it. That's my marriage.

"How are you, Emmett?"

"Glad to be home, Tanya." He looks between the both of us. "My belated congratulations on the nuptials."

She chuckles prettily. "Thank you, Emmett. I wish Edward would've told me you'd be stopping by. I would've had someone come in and prepare a nice dinner."

"That's fine," he responds politely. "I'm still missing my daily ration of MREs anyway; wouldn't know what to do with a well-prepared meal." His lips twitch.

Tanya stares at him then looks to me.

"Meals Ready to Eat," I respond smoothly. "They're what we're given to eat while deployed."

"Oh."

The three of us stand around.

"Yeah, you get your Mac'n Cheese sometimes or your Beef Stroganoff, occasionally on holidays we get chocolate bars in there…" Em grins.

"_O_kay," – Tanya smiles at Emmett and turns to me. "Well, I've got a lot of work to do. I'll be in the office for the rest of the night. Let me know if you need me, alright?

"Alright."

"Alright," she repeats before turning to Emmett with one last elegant smile. "Emmett," she says slowly, as if trying to make sure she got the name right, "it was lovely to meet you."

"You too, Tanya," Emmett grins civilly. "Take care." When we hear the door to the office open and close he turns to me. "She seems like…loads of fun."

I chuckle despite myself and clap him on the shoulder. "Come on; I'll walk you down."

We walk outside into the warm spring afternoon air and stand under the large awning that keeps the sun off of us. After years spent constantly baking under the glare of extreme heat, we both crave the cool shade. Around us, yellow cabs blare their angry horns while throngs of people pound the cement; coming and going, always busy. When a group of twenty-something girls walk past, eyes firmly on us and eager grins across their faces, Emmett chuckles.

"Hey, uniform or not, we still got it, Man, don't we?"

I snort. "I suppose we do. So Emmett, what's the plan after Quantico?"

He shrugs. "I guess most of that will be up to the Bureau. I'd like to come back to New York, but…we'll see. I've got plenty of options open."

A wide band of envy runs through me.

"And you, what are your options if you happen not to win the Congressional seat in a couple of years?"

"That's not a possibility." I _know_ the grin I'm sporting is condescending.

"You're that sure of it?"

"It's what I was made for: Congress, Senate, White House."

Emmett nods slowly. "Is that what you want, Edward?"

"Yes," I answer automatically, hands in fists and dug deep in my front pockets. "I want to serve this country. It's my responsibility; my legacy. My father and I have planned this for years. We've foreseen all the scenarios, worked it all out. My father is teaching me all there is to know about Congress. Senator Martin has promised to give me his backing when the time comes to run for office. And Tanya…Tanya will make the perfect First Lady."

Emmett whistles low through his teeth, bouncing on the heels of his feet.

"Wow. It does sound like you've got it all in the works. I gotta be honest with you though, Buddy, because we spent too much time together taking apart them explosives for me to be anything but. This shit sounds boring as all fucking hell, and it's turned you into one stiff, lifeless fucker - at least, the way you seem to be going about it now. We didn't leave that fucking hellhole in one piece for this shit. Tell your father to go fuck himself, like you told me more than once you wanted to do, and take charge of your own life; do this shit the way you see fit, on your own."

I square my jaw. My chest heaves, rises and falls with heavy, forced breaths.

"Do it on my own," I seethe, glaring down at the gray, unyielding pavement. "I've got no reason to do it on my own anymore, so what's the fucking point? _She_ went on with her goddamned life, and so will I. Besides, it's not that fucking easy," I hiss, turning my glare up to him yet with every word I utter there's nothing I want to do more than what he's just said. "_I_ have a _legacy_ to live up to. We can't all be fucking Joe Schmoes with absolutely no future, no real goals to speak of and no possibility of ever being anything more!"

I hate myself as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I've hated myself long before that.

But Emmett simply holds my gaze, an impish grin across his face.

He snorts and claps a hand over my shoulder. "Edward, if this is the man you really are, the man you plan to be, she did good in moving on. Take care, buddy."

And with that, he turns and walks away, whistling to himself.

OOOOOOOOOO

**Two years ago: Edward Aged 29**

I hold the pictures in my hand, staring at them emptily. Part of me wishes I could _feel_ more right now; more anger, more disappointment; more elation.

Instead, all I feel is…bare, blank…hollow; devoid of any real emotions. I haven't _felt_ a real emotion since…

"_I don't know what I'm going to do with myself for the next half year…"_

"_It will always be this way, Edward, always…"_

I shut my eyes tight and chase those memories away. It doesn't make sense to think of them anymore, especially while I hold these pictures. It doesn't feel right to think of _her_ while I look at these pictures, as if somehow it…taints her…

"How much of an asshole does it make me that all I am right now is…glad it's over?"

Emmett snorts. "It makes you a bit of an asshole," he admits. "What makes you a bigger asshole is that you married her in the first place when you knew you weren't in love with her, or she with you."

He's right. Of course he is. That's why he's my conscience, my only _real_ friend.

I chuckle humorlessly, opening my eyes and throwing the pictures carelessly over the desk behind me. I stare out of the window to my Central Park West office; gaze out at the school of children across at the Park, practicing their game of soccer.

"If I could turn back time…"

"You can't turn back time, my man. All you can do is move forward." He sighs. "How are you going to handle this, Edward? If you make it public, it'll be the craziest scandal the White House has seen since Monica sucked off Bill."

I snort. "I'm not going to make it public. I won't do that to this country; I won't distract it from the real issues at hand. I'm not even going to tell Aro about it. This is between Tanya, me and her _friend_," I sneer.

I hear Emmett draw in a deep breath behind me. "Well, good luck, Bro," he sighs.

"Yeah, thanks."

We're both quiet for a long time afterwards; lost in thought I suppose. In fact, I've forgotten he's there until he speaks up again.

"Edward…after this business is over…would you consider looking for _her_ again? For…Bella? I mean, I could probably look into-"

"No, Emmett," I shake my head vehemently. "She's probably married, perhaps even with kids now, living a happy, peaceful life somewhere in England…I neither want to interfere…nor know about it."

OOOOOOOOOO

I hear Jasper's anxious voice outside my office.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Carlisle, but Edward is on a conference call right now. Uncle Carlisle! Uncle, you can't-"

A fraction of a second later, my office door blows wide open, and a clearly not calm or composed Carlisle Cullen glowers down at me.

"Gentlemen, you'll have to continue this discussion without me. I've got another matter to take care of."

I hang up the phone and hold my father's infuriated gaze.

"Edward, I'm sorry; I tried to tell your dad that you were on a conference call."

"That's alright, Jasper," I say smoothly, still holding my father's gaze. "Just close the door behind you."

He glares at me for another five full minutes after the door closes.

"You had this all planned out, didn't you? You were holding off until you won the seat, the seat that _I_ vacated for you…" he seethes.

"I'm sorry, but what exactly did I have all planned out? You'll have to break it down for me a bit more because unfortunately I never did learn to be as cold and calculating as you; therefore I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The divorce you announced this morning," he hisses through barely moving lips. "You held off on announcing it until after the elections so that I couldn't do anything about it!"

"Let me see if I have this straight, Sir. So instead of coming here to offer me heartfelt condolences on the news that my marriage has come to an end, you barge in to accuse me of somehow injuring _you_ in this whole business?"

"Edward!" he growls. "We had a plan! President Martin will _never_ back you for a White House run if you divorce his fucking daughter!"

"No, don't worry, Dad. I'll be fine. I'll get through this just fine with the loving support of my family - especially my father."

"Don't give me that bullshit! You never loved Tanya in the first place!"

"No," I sneer slowly, "I didn't. And you did a wonderful job, as a parent, discouraging me from a marriage that you knew was a mistake from day one."

"It was _not_ a mistake! It's helped get you to where you are right now!"

"I could've gotten here on my own."

I could've gotten here with _her_.

"How? By living on all those idealistic whims of yours? By believing that the world is made up of sunshine and fucking roses? That all those fucking touchy feely dreams your mother taught you as a kid were things you could hold on to as an adult? She would've made the same decisions for you that I have had she been around!"

"No!" I hiss shakily. "She wouldn't have made decisions for me in the first place."

He sneers at me, chest heaving wildly.

"How the fuck are you going to get out of this now? Martin will _never_ support your run for the Senate, much less the presidency."

"Martin has no choice but to continue supporting me. He's sung my praises this far. How can he suddenly do an about face because his daughter and I are divorcing? How would that look, especially when his daughter has announced that the divorce is a mutual decision, reached on friendly terms?"

"How the hell did you get her to agree to that?"

I snort. "I have my ways too, Dad. I _have_ learned a thing or two from you, I suppose."

He shakes his head, his face bright red, nostrils flaring, but he can't contest that fact.

"Regardless, do you know how much harder you've just made things for yourself? How carefully you'll have to watch your back now and make sure you've got all your 't's crossed and 'i's dotted?"

"I always do. I have nothing to hide, nothing to be afraid of."

He stares at me for one long moment, as if he wants to say something, but then simply shakes his head.

"Why, Edward? Because she may or may not have been fucking another lawyer in her office? What the hell do you care anyway? You just said you didn't love her. It was never that kind of marriage anyway."

"You knew?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize how stupid the question is.

"Of course I knew," he reiterates. "I know _everything_, Edward."

"You knew, and you didn't tell me," I say flatly.

"There was no point. It would've just created problems, and as long as she was being discreet…Edward, I kept this quiet for your own good. It was your _leverage_ for the future-"

"_Leverage_?" I snarl. "She was my wife! No matter what, she was my wife, and regardless of anything else, when I took those vows to be faithful, _I_ kept them! You should've told me! I mean, Jesus!" – I bang a hand on my desk – "Do you really not see the betrayal here?"

"How is it a betrayal when you didn't even love her?"

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT HER!"

For the first time in his life, he seems to be completely out of retorts.

My heart beats erratically in my chest, so sick and tired of this, of _all_ this: of a life full of nothing but goals and lies to achieve those goals; of nothing that's real - nothing that matters.

Of a life without _her_ and what I felt, what _she_ made me feel for that one short weekend.

"Were you faithful to my mother?"

"What?" he cries indignantly. "Of course I was! I loved your mother! We made a family together, fulfilled _our_ part of the legacy, which is all I've ever wanted for you! Perhaps if you would've stopped brooding over something that doesn't exist and paid attention to your wife, given _her_ children she wouldn't have-"

"Stop! Just…goddamned…_stop_!" I hiss through my teeth. "I would _never_ risk making children with a woman I couldn't love! I could_ never_ perpetuate this…lie any further! It's over! So I'm sorry, Dad, because if that's _all_ you've ever wanted for me, I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed. White House or not, this godforsaken _legacy_ dies with me!"

"You can't mean that!" he yells. "Edward, fine, if you can't do this thing with Tanya anymore, that's fine. We can work around that, but it's not too late for you to find someone else. A married man with children is perceived as much more mature and able to handle the pressures of the White House than…"

His voice trails off at my expression.

"_Do you plan on getting married someday?"_

"_Someday, I suppose. I'd like to have a couple of kids, eventually. And you?"_

"_Someday…"_

…but not without you.

"You don't see what you do, do you? You don't hear yourself. You don't understand…_at all_ what _I_ need."

He studies me, and for one quick moment it looks like he's going to say something, but then his face goes blank, expressionless.

It's good; for once I'm grateful for his bland expression because I don't want to hear anymore. I've heard enough from him to last me a lifetime.

"_I don't think you need to follow your father's way, Edward. I think you'll get there on your own."_

"I'll _tell_ you what I need. I need to do this _my_ way, whether it gets me to the White House or not. I'm doing this on my own because I'm tired of the lies; of all the bullshit."

He sneers at me. "Now that I've gotten you this far, _now_ you're tired of the bullshit; _now_ you're ready to discard me. You know, for someone who keeps bitching about what a cold asshole I am, you certainly have learned to be just as cool and calculating as you accuse me of being."

"If that's what this looks like, if it looks like I waited this long because I was waiting for you to get me here, then I'm sorry. That's truly not the case. I just…" – I shake my head slowly - "…I _can't_ be what _you_ want me to be anymore. I've tried, Dad, I really have, to make you proud, but it's never been enough." I draw in a deep breath and let it out in one long gust. "Now I need to be the man _I_ want to be; a man that would've made my _mother_ proud."

I need to be the man I _should've_ been for her…for Bella.

He narrows his eyes, shaking his head. "I truly hope you don't live to regret this."

"If I do, it'll be my regret and my regret alone."

When he leaves, I sit stonily at my desk, turning my chair around to stare out the window…into a lifetime's worth of memories that happened in one weekend.

"_I've got six months to go on my tour of duty. Wait for me, Bella. I'll come back when my tour ends and take you back to the States with me."_

"_What about your dad, Edward?"_

"_I don't care about my dad."_

"_What about the Cullen Legacy?"_

The silver I.D. tags clutched in my hand catch the sun; they gleam and glow as I turn them over from side to side. The metal feels cool inside my palms, but when I close my eyes and remember…when I see myself putting them around her soft neck…the warmth returns...

"I'll get there on my own," I repeat, the way I told her that day long ago. And though the reality turned out to be so different, I close my eyes and quietly utter the promise I never did fulfill.

"We'll get there together."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Love, love, love hearing from you guys!**

**Next week's "Now" chapter will be in EPOV. :)**

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	17. Chapter 17 Cleaning House

**A/N: **IMPORTANT****

**Another early update because THERE WILL BE ANOTHER "NOW" UPDATE ON WEDNESDAY!**

**This chapter grew extremely long, and the chapters have been long lately to begin with. This was even longer than those. So I had to cut it in two. I'm not going to make you all wait until next week for the second half because I know you're all anxious to see how this progresses, so we'll be updating again on Wednesday with the continuation of this, and then Friday we'll go on to the second to last "Then" chapter.**

**So barring unforeseen circumstances, there will be 3 updates this week. :)**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes is a beta-ing queen!**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Ch. 17 – House Cleaning**

**EPOV**

**Now:**

Emmett hasn't lost his skill at navigating big vehicles through long, narrow roads - even if they are tight, tree-lined residential streets as opposed to the constricted, dense back-roads of Kandahar. He deftly races us out of the English shore town of Leigh-on-Sea, veering onto the sidewalk every time another car approaches from the opposite direction. It's a good thing he's here, a good thing he's driving. I was always better at dismantling the god damned bombs, but I'll admit, he was better with the Humvees.

Besides, there's no way in hell I can drive right now. I can barely even see or focus on anything in front of me. Dozens of thoughts, of implications, of clues, of signs I _should've_ seen; everything bombards me.

"_This here was just a taste, Congressman Cullen, of how I have you by the bollocks…"_

"_I can certainly discuss some of my plans with you…but I can't give you all of my secrets…"_

"_When the week is over, you and I need to have a talk…"_

Green eyes exactly like my own swim before my vision and eclipse everything else in the way. Long, copper hair…a shade darker than mine, but clearly _my_ hair…

Back when we were in the service, we went out on a job once, in Zabul Province, that didn't end too well. It was a couple of months after I met Bella in London. We were sharing the work with another unit; it was their job to find the devices, and our job to take them apart. Some dumb fuck in the other unit missed one, and a passing civilian vehicle rolled right over it. We were lucky – far away enough so all the entire explosion did was blow us a few feet in the air, knock the fucking wind out of us, and give us a few bruised ribs and scrapes - really fucking lucky. Of course, the unfortunate civilians in the vehicle didn't fare as well.

Anyway, I had a…vision, I suppose, while lying on the ground dazed and covered in dirt and rock and shrapnel and shit I didn't even want to think of. In this alternate reality, I'd return to London after this hell was finally over, and I'd walk into that pub, and there _she'd_ be: behind the bar, and when she would step out from behind it, her stomach would be round with my child; with _our_ child…

Jesus, of course I knew the risks of what happened in that shower; the one and only time I'd ever – I _have_ ever- had unprotected sex. The possible repercussions of those couple of glorious minutes both haunted and kept me warm some long damned nights over in that fucking hellhole. But if she'd been pregnant with my child, she wouldn't have left with Tyler, she would've been waiting for me; she would've _told_ me…

"FUCK!"

In the quiet tension of the car, I let loose a furious howl, slamming on the car's dashboard - over and over.

Emmett remains silent, navigating through the darkening streets and widening highways.

She would've _told_ me.

She would've _told_ me.

She would've _told_ me…

…I have a _daughter_.

OOOOOOOOOO

I storm inside the suite and throw off the lone duffel bag I've brought. As soon as the door closes behind us, Emmett begins.

"Her name is Elizabeth London Swan."

"_Elizabeth?"_

Emmett nods solemnly. "She's six years old, born April third, 2007. Hospital records indicate she was slightly premature, but healthy at birth. School records show she attended nursery school last year at the same school where her grandmother, Renee Swan, teaches. She's bright, registered to start one of the higher-level first grade classes in September. She goes by the nickname, 'Ellie.'"

I stare at him, trying to absorb all the information he's throwing at me, but the entire conversation feels surreal; like an alternate version of that long ago vision.

"Elizabeth."

I drop heavily over the sofa before my legs can give out.

"Elizabeth. _Ellie_."

Emmett remains silent.

"Jesus, why? Why didn't she ever tell me? Why did she leave for Liverpool? Why was she _hiding_?"

Emmett takes a seat opposite me. "Edward, stop and think. I know you've been hit out left field with this, but think things through. Now, you said that Bella seemed shocked when you told her you'd gone back for her, as if she'd had no idea."

I nod tersely.

"If she really didn't know that you'd gone back for her, why the hell would she have been hiding?"

"But the P.I. said…"

Emmett watches me, waiting…

I throw my head against the back of the sofa. "Bella was never in Liverpool, or with Tyler."

Emmett shakes his head slowly. "From what I've gathered, she's been living in Leigh-on-Sea for years. She's pretty loyal to the same petrol station, the same grocery store. She hasn't been around too much for the past couple of months though…because she's been in the States."

"Jesus Christ," I breathe.

"She keeps an apartment here in London, but the doorman confirms that she's rarely ever there."

My mind reels with all the implications while I think aloud.

"But why the hell didn't she tell me? She sought me out in D.C. two weeks ago! We've spent every single god-damned day together for over a week! Why the hell didn't she tell me? Not just now, but back then!"

"That's something only she can answer."

I switch quickly from one thought to the next while trying to make sense of everything all at once.

"The fucking P.I. I hired back then…

Emmett draws in a lungful of air. "Edward…I didn't have a hard time finding Bella's home in Leigh-on-Sea. I mean, yeah, I had more info to go on then that guy would've had back then, but for someone who would've known what he was doing…it would've taken him a bit longer, but…"

Those are the same thoughts currently running through my head.

Bella was _never_ in Liverpool. She was never with Tyler. The entire time I looked for her, she'd been in a little town just outside of London, pregnant with my child.

_My_ child.

I drop my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. "FUCK!"

"Emmett, I need answers, from more than a couple of people."

"Yeah, man. You seriously do."

OOOOOOOOOO

Jasper picks up on the second ring though it's three in the morning on the East Coast of the U.S.

"Edward, Jesus, where are you? Mom says you told her there was an emergency before packing a bag and leaving. What's going on?"

"Jasper, I'm in London. I need you to fly over immediately."

Emmett watches me silently.

"London? What's going on in London, Edward?

"It's urgent. I'll call the airport and have them make room for you on the next flight."

He's silent for a few seconds. "Alright, Edward. I'll be there as soon as I can. What should I tell Kate and the rest of the staff? They're all wondering where you are."

"Tell them I'm taking some personal time and will be in touch soon."

"And your father? He's still here in Long Island and he's been asking about you."

"_I know everything, Edward."_

I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

The fact that he hasn't tried to contact me speaks volumes in and of itself.

"Don't worry about my father. I'll take care of him. Jasper…can I trust you with this?"

"Of course, Edward. Where should I meet you?"

I give him the info and hang up, closing my eyes and visualizing what the next step should be if I want to do this logically. The problem is, this isn't a damn congressional or committee meeting. I can't _think_ logically at the moment. Those green eyes are blocking all logical thought.

My nostrils flare. "I know…I _understand_ that Bella and I need to calm down before we talk about this, before I can see…_Elizabeth_, but I don't know how long I'll be able to wait."

"Edward." Emmett sighs. "Look, I don't know all the details of what the hell went down all those years ago, or why you were never informed that you have a daughter, but Bella's right about at least one thing: you _need_ to think this through _before_ you try to go over there again. Stepping through that door will have far-reaching consequences, at least if you want to do things right – if you want to make sure that the little girl doesn't get hurt."

It's…strange how just the mere thought of her, of _Elizabeth_ getting hurt sends a surge of protectiveness, of _responsibility_ rushing through me the likes of which I've never felt. I picture that tiny face I saw only this morning, and the fierce devotion that I suddenly feel to her well-being is staggering.

I hold Emmett's gaze. "Emmett, I have a daughter. _A daughter_. She's mine and _Bella's_, for God's sakes! There's nothing else I need to figure out."

Emmett gives me a toned-down version of his usual grin. "No, Man, I didn't think there would be."

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time Emmett returns from picking up Jasper at the airport, it's almost eleven p.m. local time. I haven't slept a wink in twenty-four hours, yet I can't get my mind or body to relax. I've paced up and down this damn room about a thousand times, thinking…trying to understand things…replaying things in my head…

"_I suggest that for everyone involved, and I do mean __**everyone**__, we keep all this off the record…"_

I don't realize how tightly I'm wound, how ready to pounce I am until I hear my name called behind me and whip around.

"Jesus, Edward!" Jasper takes a step back, glaring at me, wide-eyed and wary. "What the hell's going on?"

I try my best to compose myself, to put up my mask, but it's not as effortless as usual. "Take a seat, Jasper. We've got a few things to discuss."

He looks anxiously from me to Emmett before walking over to the long, rectangular table in the sitting room. I move across from him and remain standing.

"Edward, would you like me to step out of the room?" Emmett asks.

"No, Emmett." I shake my head. "There's no need for that."

As far as I know, Emmett is the only person in this goddamned world I can truly trust.

I take a seat across from Jasper, simply watching him, studying him for a few moments.

"Edward, are you going to tell me what the hell this is about?"

Drawing in a deep breath, I lean forward. "Jasper, you're my Chief-of-Staff, my cousin, and my friend. In the name of that _friendship_ more than anything, I'm going to ask you to _please_ be honest with me."

"I _always_ am, Edward."

"Where did you get the P.I. from?"

I don't even need to elaborate. His eyes open wide before he drops them to the table between us.

"I asked you," I hiss, "I _specifically_ asked you _not_ to speak to my father about it!"

"Edward," he spouts quickly, "you'd _disappeared_! No one had any idea where you were and your father was worried about you and-"

"I was a grown fucking man, Jasper!" I howl. "He wasn't worried about me, he was worried about his fucking legacy! Did you tell him you were coming to meet me _now_?" I spit out quickly.

"No, Edward," he shakes his head vehemently. "I swear to you, no. I told Kate and the staff you'd be in touch and your father that I had no idea where you were."

"_I know everything, Edward."_

I snort. "He probably knows where we are anyway. But that's fine. I'll get to him soon enough. What I want to know _now_" – I pound my forefinger against the wood grain – "is what you told him _then_?"

He presses his lips together tightly before answering. "I told him that I didn't know where you were – but, that you'd called; that you needed information, and you'd be home as soon you got it."

"So _he_ gave you Jay Jenks' name to give to _me._"

His eyes shift guiltily from me to the table. "He looked honestly worried, Edward. Besides, he said the guy was the best in the business; that he'd help you find out whatever you needed to know so you could get home quickly."

I hold his gaze, kneading my thumb over my chin.

"I did some research on him first, Edward." He's on the defensive now. "He did seem to be one of the best in the business."

"Oh, he is one of the best in the business," I agree. "Emmett and I have spent the last few hours doing research on him as well. Did you know that he was also a long-time supporter of my father that worked for him on a couple of investigations, and that they have a long and complicated history full of mutual shady favors?"

Jasper sucks in a sharp breath.

I sit back against my chair. "You know what? I can't even blame you. _I_ should've done the research back then. _I_ should've checked him out before I trusted him to try to find her."

"To try to find _whom_?" Jasper asks. "Who the hell were you looking for?"

I study him carefully. If I had to bet my life on it, I'd bet that he honestly meant no malice. That he simply put his trust in the wrong damned person.

But this isn't about betting my life. This is about six years that I'll never get back, and I'm going to find out how the hell it got to this.

"I have a daughter; a six year old daughter, living here in the London area."

Jasper's eyes slowly widen in shock while I study the genuineness of his surprise.

"Jesus…Jesus Christ, Edward, is _that_ who you were looking for?"

I shake my head. "I didn't even know she existed until less than twenty-four hours ago."

"So then…"

"I was looking for her mother."

He jerks his head back; stunned. His mouth opens, but then abruptly closes again.

"Her mother…your…_daughter's_ mother…she's a Brit?"

"Yes."

He narrows his eyes sharply; a strange expression, as if something's just occurred to him, crosses his features.

"What is it, Jasper?"

He holds my gaze, defensiveness completely gone. Instead, he looks wary again. "It was long ago, while you were still in the service. I never mentioned it because…well because your father said it wasn't important, and then I honestly just forgot about it."

"Didn't mention _what_?" I hiss.

He swallows thickly. "A few months before you came back from the service, while I was interning for your dad, there was a…phone call."

I move in closer, my hands in fists over the table. "_What_ phone call?"

"At the time I didn't think…but you just said your daughter's mother is British…"

"Jasper," I snarl lowly, "what. phone call?"

Out of my periphery, I see Emmett move in closer.

"A girl called. She had an…English accent – one of those thick ones that are hard to understand - and…she asked for you. Said she needed your contact information. That it was important."

A flash of burning heat travels up my spine, into my face, and up my scalp. I'm pretty sure my entire body is on fire and that if I look down all I'll see is flames licking up and across my arms and legs. The entire thing is fucking with my vision - badly.

I push my chair back; the scraping noise it makes over the wood floors sounds like chalk on blackboard; my eyes pinch shut, I rub them hard to try to clear the red haze that's appeared before them.

"And you…" – my voice shakes – "…you didn't give it to her?"

He shrugs, expression bewildered, eyes flashing defensively with his own indignation now. "It was a random phone call, Edward! Some girl calls your father's office asking for your contact information, and refusing to give her name. What the hell was I supposed to do, just give it to her?!"

I'm about to lunge out of my seat and choke the ever-living shit out of him when I feel Emmett's heavy hand on my shoulder, keeping me down.

"Calm down, Edward. He didn't know."

"Edward, I swear I had no idea it was important. After your father spoke to her, he dismissed the entire thing and-"

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. My father? My father…_spoke_ to her?"

Jasper nods, swallowing thickly.

This time I make it across the table before Emmett can stop me. I grip Jasper's tie, twist it around my fist. He chokes and gasps for air.

"What did he say to her?" I growl wildly.

"I don't know, Edward!" Jasper heaves. "I swear I don't know! He told me to leave the room, and that was it! By the time I came back in he was back to work mode and told me it was nothing!"

"Are you sure?" I tighten my hold on his tie. "Are you sure you're not lying to me the way EVERYONE'S BEEN FUCKING LYING TO ME FOR YEARS?!"

"Edward, I'm not lying!"

"Edward!"

I feel Emmett's hands on my shoulders; he grabs and yanks me off.

"Edward, Jasper didn't know! Save your fury for the asshole that's apparently known everything all along!"

Glaring at Jasper, I throw myself over my seat, trying to breathe through constricted lungs.

"She called…Jesus, she called me…" – I dig my elbows into the table, dropping my face into my hands. "She called…God…what did he say to her?"

For an endless moment, the three of us sit around wordlessly.

Finally, I breathe in deeply and rake my hands off my face, looking at my cousin, my Chief-of-Staff, my friend - who's now become another name on the list of people who've contributed to keeping the most important piece of information of my life from me.

"Jasper, this is all over." I spread my arms out wide. "This whole god damned lie, and I…I can't trust you. Not right now. You see that, don't you?"

For a moment, he looks as if he might protest, but then he simply shuts his eyes, exhaling through his nostrils and nods.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I shouldn't have trusted your father back then."

"You're not the first to make that mistake, Jasper, and if it was just about me, I could probably put it behind us. But it's not just about me." I shake my head and snort. "I'm only now beginning to understand what I've missed out on for the past six years, and I'm cleaning house of anyone that had anything to do with that - in any shape, way or form. I'm sorry, but I can't accept your apology – not now."

OOOOOOOOOO

It's two in the morning local time when I can finally master enough self-control to place the call.

"Edward."

He says nothing else, and I know he's known all along. I'd bet that he knows exactly where I am right now.

"_Know your enemy."_

It's one of the first things they teach you in combat training.

"_And you'll know how to defeat him."_

I know my enemy. I know my enemy too well.

"I'm not going to ask you how long you've known, or why you never told me. I think I can figure those out on my own. For now, I'm only going to _tell_ you one thing: Stay. Away from them."

There's no immediate response.

"What exactly is it that you think you know here, Edward?"

"I know enough, and in the next forty-eight hours I plan to know it all."

He snorts. "Let me tell you what you know. You know that a woman you spent a short weekend with seven years ago, and for whom that weekend didn't quite end as she would've liked, has a child."

"_My_ daughter!" I growl forcefully. "_Your_ flesh and blood!"

"That remains to be seen. If she's threatening to go public with this, I hope you at least have enough sense to demand DNA testing immediately. I've done the math, Edward, and it doesn't add up. Nine months before that child was born you were nowhere near London."

"You rotten son-of-a…" I shut my eyes tight, trying desperately to reign myself in.

After a deep breath, I open my eyes again. "I'm not going to do this with you over the phone. You're going to have to deal with me face to face and answer for quite a few things. All I'm calling to tell you now is that I know you've known all along, I know about the phone call you had Jasper keep from me, I know that you bought off that piece of shit P.I. back then, and I know you've been keeping tabs on Bella and my daughter. But now you're going to Stay. The hell. Away from them! _They_ are my responsibility now, and I _won't_ let them down again!"

His whispered voice drips fury when he responds. "You're _responsibility_, Edward, is to this country! Not to some scorned woman who just wants to destroy you with a child that may or may not even be yours! My God, Edward, think! You're at a precipice here and the next steps you take will determine it all!"

My chest burns with a scorching rage and disgust I never knew was possible – not for your own flesh and blood.

But no, I _won't_ do this over the phone. He won't get off that easily.

"_Know your enemy, and you'll know how to defeat them."_

I chuckle bitterly. "You're right, Dad. The next steps will determine it all, and when I take those steps, I want to make sure that you know that it was _your_ actions that have led me in that direction."

"Edward!"

I hang up.

OOOOOOOOOO

My father.

Jasper.

Rosalie.

Jenks.

So many lies, so many betrayals. They will _all_ answer for this - to varying degrees.

But what about…Bella?

Why didn't she ever tell me about our child?

Why did she call? Was it to tell me?

And what the hell did my father say to her over that phone call?

Was she _ever_ going to tell me?

"_This here was just a taste, Congressman Cullen, of how I have you by the bollocks."_

"…_pretty soon you'll wish you'd never laid eyes on me again." _

Was she really going to use her, _Elizabeth_, to try to destroy me?

OOOOOOOOOO

After a long, restless night, I call Bella early the next morning. Despite my fears to the contrary, she answers after only a couple of rings – as if she's been waiting.

"Bella."

Silence.

"I want to see her."

She lets out a deep sigh. "Where are you staying?"

"The St. James in London."

"I'll meet you at the restaurant there at noon."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

*****REMEMBER: ANOTHER "NOW" UPDATE COMING ON WEDNESDAY! STAY TUNED!****

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	18. Chapter 18 - Sparkle

**A/N: I know I promised a teaser for this chapter, but I had a bit of RL pop up in the last 48 hours. Sorry, guys. But here's the actual chapter itself. :)**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 18 – Sparkle**

**Now:**

**EPOV**

I'm more than a bit early to the restaurant, but Bella is punctual. It's a good thing, because I'm just about going crazy at this point. I'm pretty sure I've pulled out about half of my head of hair in the past two days.

I watch Bella closely as the hostess leads her to the table where I'm waiting.

Every single time that Bella has approached me in the past two weeks, she's appeared so in control, so confident and so…distrustful. I snort to myself as I observe her. Had I not been so blinded by equal parts bliss and disbelief a couple of weeks ago in that restroom, I would've seen it then; the resentment shining bright in her dark eyes, instead of seeing what I _wanted_ to see: longing; need as acute as what I felt.

Today, she looks simply…tired; dark circles ring her eyes. Instead of the classy, high-fashion clothes she sports lately she's simply wearing jeans and an over-sized sweater. With her long hair pulled up in a haphazard ponytail, she looks young and so innocent, instead of like the angry, worldly woman that roared back into my life a couple of weeks ago. And I _know_ I caused it all; I'm only now beginning to realize how thoroughly I caused it.

I stole her innocence…but _she_ took my breath away - in every single way imaginable.

Now I need to figure out what else she's kept from me.

I came to London for her, to set everything straight once I realized her piece of shit of a best friend had never actually _told_ her that I'd come back for her. I came to see if there was any possible way we could get past it all and start over, to see if she could ever forgive me for hurting her in the first place.

Instead I've found that I'm a father. I'm a father and she _never_ told me.

How do we get past _this_?

Regardless, as I stand next to her, barely able to breathe, I know one thing: she _still_ takes my breath away, and she will _always_ take my breath away.

I pull her seat out for her. She sits stiffly; her expression wary, refusing to quite meet my gaze.

"Would you like to order-"

"I'm not hungry." She draws in a deep breath and pulls something out of her purse, placing it before me.

It's a small, black flash drive. I frown down at it.

"The article is complete. Here's your courtesy copy, as promised. Austin will have the pictures we plan to use for you in a couple of days."

I flash my eyes up to hers. She holds my gaze, hesitantly; cautious.

"Do you really think that's what I wanted to meet with you about? Do you think I give a damn about that right now?"

"I don't know _what_ you give a damn about, Edward; that's the problem. Unless you're speaking before Congress or identifying with your constituents, you hide behind an impenetrable mask of indifference that no one can read."

"_I_ hide behind a mask?" I snap challengingly, leaning forward.

Her wary eyes flash, ready for a fight.

I realize something right then and there, we both have a habit of snapping; of simply letting the words pour out. And though these particular words sting to hear, they're the most sincere thing she's said to me in two weeks.

She doesn't trust me.

I understand because of everything that's happened - and because I'm not so sure how much I trust her right now either.

I draw in a deep breath and try, _for her_ I'll try to break down the mask of protection that's simply become second nature in the past two decades. For her and my daughter, I'll do anything. She doesn't seem to understand this…and I can't really blame her.

"Bella…let's…" – I lean back and rake a hand down my face, do my best to wipe off the mask – "…let's try this again. I don't even know where to start right now. I came to London for you, because I simply couldn't let you disappear from my life once more. I wanted to clear everything up and make sure that you knew that I _did_ come back for you, that I was sorry for all the pain I'd ever caused you, that I'd been stupid; stupid and weak."

She's expressionless while I speak; her own mask still up.

"I _should've_ been a stronger man for you, and I wanted to be. When I came back, I-"

"Edward, this is no longer about you and me, but rather about my daughter."

"_Our_ daughter," I hiss.

She holds my gaze, her expression even; eyes that were once so familiar and warm are now foreign and cool.

Finally, she moves in close.

Despite her cold demeanor, her proximity might as well be fire. Despite all the confusion and unanswered questions, she might as well be a flame and I the moth that has to fight the impulse to grab her and wrap her in my arms – to force my mouth over hers until she responds.

"What do you see happening here, Edward? Please tell me. That's all I want to know right now. Why you came back, and what that may have meant…I can't even…just tell me what you see happening here in regards to Elizabeth."

I watch her mouth as it moves, as her lips mold themselves around that name. I still can't believe that we're talking about my daughter – about _our_ daughter.

"I want you and I to clear the air, and then I want to see my daughter."

"Clear the air about what exactly?"

"Bella," I say tightly, trying to keep the edge out of my voice, to remain as calm as she appears, "obviously something, a few things went very wrong somewhere. I came back for you; you weren't told. And _I_ was never told that you were expecting my child."

"I don't want to talk about that right now."

"_Why not?"_

"Because it has no bearing on the issue before us at the moment."

"No bearing?" My temper flares. "Bella, I should've been told that you were pregnant with my child!"

"Yes, you should've been told, but _I_ didn't know you had come back!"

"Because _she_…your _friend_…" I seethe, "told me that she'd spoken to you and that you'd said-"

She puts a hand out, palm up. "Edward, I can't."

Suddenly, her entire demeanor shifts. She no longer looks like the hard, impenetrable woman that stormed into my life again a couple of weeks ago, but rather like the scared, innocent and heartbroken young girl that ran out of that hotel suite after I wronged her so fucking badly seven years ago.

She fists the top of her hair. "I can't even think…of what that means right now, of how it may have…changed things, or if it would've changed anything at all."

"_If_ it would've changed anything at all? Bella, I'm just finding out now that I have a six-year old daughter! Of course it would've changed things!"

"Would you have stayed?"

"What?"

"Would you have stayed, Edward?" she asks, her voice already full of doubt. "Had Rose told you where I was, had you come and found me six months pregnant with _your_ child, what exactly would you have done?"

"I would've taken care of you!"

She cocks her head sideways. "How? By staying…or by throwing money my way?"

I shake my head while pain lances through my chest.

"I suppose I can't blame you for how little…_faith_ you have in what I felt for you. I would've taken care of you," I repeat through clenched teeth. "Of you _and_ our baby. Of my responsibilities-"

"Your responsibilities have always consisted of your legacy and your country. Which is fine, but where would that have left my daughter and me?" She shakes her head. "You came back, but that doesn't mean you would've stayed. Like your father said, Edward, you will _always_ pick your country and your responsibilities first; you will _always_ choose the responsibility that's for the greater good."

"My _father_ said that, Bella," I remind her angrily, "_not_ me."

"Except you did say that." She smiles sadly. "In that hotel room. You said that you had responsibilities that you couldn't go back on; that it was about more than you or what you may have wanted. Why would any of that have changed just six months later?" She looks away from me. "You were married just three months after showing up here to supposedly make a go of it with me. Rose was wrong about a lot of things Edward, but she was right about at least one: those aren't the actions of a heartbroken man."

I swallow through the tightness in my throat. "Bella…Bella, I was lost. Without you, I thought I had nothing; nothing worth fighting for, worth standing up for. It was cowardly yes. Extremely cowardly, but don't let my bad decisions be a reflection of my feelings for _you_. It was simply all me."

She won't meet my gaze, but I can see her bottom lip trembling.

"Bella, you were _always_ my _real_ responsibility, and you have no idea how much I regret that I doubted that even for even a second; I'm sorry I made _you_ doubt that, but it was _always_ you. And it _would've_ been you and our baby."

"I have no way of knowing that now," she murmurs in a choked voice. "I have no way of knowing what you would've chosen."

"_Bella_…" I reach up and wipe off a tear that's trailed down her cheek; her face is so warm and smooth. She closes her eyes at my touch.

"She was born exactly a week after your...wedding."

My heart feels as if it's being cut open with a knife.

"Bella," I swallow thickly, "God, Bella…"

She draws in a sharp breath and allows her eyes to meet mine once more. "It's too much right now, Edward; too many scenarios and what-ifs that I can't make heads or tails of at the moment and perhaps that's unfair to you, I don't know. I don't know what's fair or not right now. All I can focus on at this moment is how all of this affects my daughter in the here and now."

"_Our_ daughter. Alright, Bella. We won't go into all of this right now, but at least tell me one thing _now_, Bella. There's one thing I _need_ to know right now: Did you ever plan on telling me? Were you _ever_ going to tell me?"

I can't keep the tone of accusation out of my voice. Her eyes flash indignantly; fire burns inside them.

"Yes, Edward, I did plan on telling you. I _tried_ to tell you."

"When? When you called my father's office? Is that what you called his office for?"

Her eyes widen in horror. Suddenly she looks infuriated. Infuriated and young and horrified and hurt and…so damn humiliated.

"Jesus, what did he _say_ to you?"

"You knew?" she cries, her voice so raw with pain I wince in my seat. "You knew I'd called?"

"No, Bella," I assure her quickly. "I only just found out last night, after talking to Jasper. He'd _never_ mentioned it before. I swear."

She searches my eyes, my face, and this time I let her see it all: my pain, my regret. I can see exactly when she tries to put up her mask of indifference again, but she falters and looks down, and I hate myself for the cautious woman I created; my god damn family created.

And though I know I shouldn't, though I know she's right and we've got different issues to deal with at the moment, I can't resist her. I couldn't resist her that day in the pub and I couldn't resist her a couple of weeks ago at the fundraiser. I'll never be able to resist her.

I reach out and grab her hands, enveloping them inside mine, holding on tightly. She doesn't pull away. Instead, she weaves her fingers through mine and holds on just as tight.

"Did you tell him?" I ask urgently, exhilarated despite the solemnity of the moment; terrified that it'll end too soon and that whatever is making her grip on to me so solidly will disappear. "Did you tell my father that you were pregnant?"

She shakes her head stoically, but her eyes fill at the corners. "But your father is a pretty smart man, isn't he? I'm quite sure he figured it out."

I close my eyes, my entire body rigid with fury. "He did know. He knew and…" My eyes snap open. "Tell me what he said."

She studies me for a few seconds before dropping her eyes again.

"I don't want to get into that right now, Edward; what your father said, what Rose did. We are where we are," she draws in a deep breath and meets my gaze again, "and the only thing I want to focus on right now is getting my daughter through this unscathed."

"_Our_ daughter, Bella," I remind her once more. "And it does matter! We've lost six years because of their lies, Bella," I hiss, squeezing her hands even tighter. "_I've_ lost six years with my daughter! _Why_ didn't you tell me?"

She starts crying.

"Bella…" my throat tightens painfully. I reach up and stroke her cheek, wiping away her tears. "Bella…I never-"

Her expression suddenly shifts. She sits up straight, backing away, untangling her hands from mine.

"I won't allow you to hurt _her_."

"I have no intention of hurting her. I want to see her, to meet her." I draw in a lungful of air. "I'm _not_ leaving London without seeing her."

She snorts sardonically; in her eyes I see that the hard, unflinching Bella is back. "You want to see her? Have you thought this through, Edward? I mean really thought this through?"

"There's nothing to think through."

Her nostrils flare. "There's _so_ much to think through, Edward. You say you would've stayed for me and Elizabeth, but what if Daddy would've called? Would you have stayed then?"

"Yes, Bella. Nothing and no one would've taken me away."

"I'm not so sure it would've been that simple. I'm not so sure your father would've allowed it. He threatened me back in Long Island, to keep all this quiet."

I close my eyes, nostrils flaring. When I open them back up, Bella's own eyes widen, as if she's surprised by what she sees in them.

"He threatened you back then, too. Didn't he?"

We're locked in each other's gazes. I search her eyes, watching them fill with so much humiliation, so much pain.

"Jesus, what the hell did he _say_ to you?"

She shakes her head. "Like I said, I don't want to talk about that - not right now."

"My father _will_ regret what he's said and done. Mark my words. If you won't tell me what he said, I'll make _him_ tell me."

She snorts bitterly. "I don't think he'll have the bollocks to repeat what he said to me on that phone."

"Oh he'll repeat it," I assure her, "and I _will_ deal with him. I _will_ get to the bottom of all of this, Bella."

She shakes her head. "Let's stay in the here and now. He doesn't want you to meet your illegitimate daughter. What do you think this will do to all your plans for the future, Edward? To all of _his_ plans for you? This is a huge choice you have to make here."

I run a frustrated hand through my hair. "I can't blame you for doubting me, for misunderstanding _my_ priorities. I promise you, my father no longer has a say in my life. He should've _never_ had a say in the first place and I'm so damned sorry it took me so long..." - I take another long, deep breath and let it out slowly - "Bella, once I get back to the States, I'll be setting him straight once and for all." I lean in close again. "But right now, all I want. Is to see. My daughter."

She watches me, chest heaving.

"If you meet her, you _can't_ tell her who you are."

"What? She's my daughter, Bella! I'm her father! I have rights-"

"Don't tell me about your rights, Edward! She has rights too and regardless of what rights you may think you have, I _won't_ let you gallop into her life only to gallop right out while you figure out what the hell it is that you really want!"

"I know what I want. I want to see my daughter," I say impatiently.

She scowls. "If you meet her, we'll say you're a friend. This way, you can talk and get to know her without risking her-"

I shake my head from side to side. "No, Bella. I'm not playing this game. I'm sick and tired of games! I'm her father-"

"You know nothing about being a father!"

"That's not _my_ fault," I clench out.

She jerks back. When she speaks again, her voice trembles. "Listen to me. She is a sweet, innocent six-year old little girl who has no idea how her life is about to change. Once we tell her that you're her father, I will _not_ allow you to turn your back on her."

"I will _never_ turn my back on her."

The skepticism on her face fucking kills me.

"I pray to God you mean that."

OOOOOOOOOO

The next day, I ring the doorbell to the small white house where my daughter-

Jesus, my daughter –

- has spent the first six years of her life. I know very little about her, other than the small bits of information Emmett has given me and what I saw for myself two days ago. Her name is Elizabeth - whether she was named after my mother or not is something I still don't know. Either way, she's the spitting image of my mother, and she's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen.

I've got a small, white teddy bear clutched in my hands that I purchased at the hotel's gift shop on my way over here when I realized I was going to meet my daughter and had nothing for her. But what do you give your child when you've been absent for the first six years of her life?

My heart beats painfully against my ribs. I really hope she likes the teddy bear.

I'm a friend of her mother's, that's the story we're going with – for now.

I have rights; I know I do. I know that a lawyer will be able to enforce those rights, but…I don't want to go that route – not with Bella. She needs time to trust me again, to believe in me. I understand that, just like I'm trying my damndest to trust her because I _know_ that deep inside somewhere is still the Bella I fell in love with. Despite the armor she protects herself with nowadays, she's still good. She's still pure. She's still innocent throughout all this mess.

I won't taint that – not anymore. Now I'll give her the respect and support I _should've_ given her then, even if she doesn't want it anymore. There's still so much we need to discuss, but first things first, and the first thing is-

The door opens, startling me out of my agitated thoughts. On the other side stands a woman in about her late forties or early fifties; pretty, and though she doesn't exactly _look_ like Bella, there's something in her smile reminiscent of those first open smiles Bella once gave me, long ago.

Yes, this woman actually smiles at me. I'm not expecting this.

"Edward," she chuckles heartily, startling me even more. "You made it! Come in, then!"

She grabs my hand and pulls me into the house as if we're old friends.

"Mrs. Swan?"

"Call me Renee." She grins.

"_O_-kay. Renee."

I take a quick look around the house; the house my daughter has grown up in. It doesn't seem very big, but it's inviting and well taken care of. My eyes scan over half a dozen pictures on the walls and mantle of a small little girl with copper hair and bright green eyes.

Jesus, my _daughter_.

Renee laughs. "Blimey, Ellie does so look like you. I always thought so, from seeing you on the telly and the papers, but even more so now seeing you in person! And the eyes…" she covers her mouth, giggling in amusement. "Why they could've cut them out of you and put them on her they're so similar!"

I already love this woman.

"Thank you." Despite my nervousness, I find myself grinning.

She looks down at the bear clutched in my hands.

"A gift. Ellie does love teddy bears. Did Bella tell you?"

I shake my head. "No. I kind of…guessed."

"It was a good guess," she smiles kindly. Just then, another woman, a young girl actually, comes bounding down the stairs. She gives me another one of those friendly grins I'm not expecting - before pulling me into a hug.

"Edward! It's so good to meet you!"

I blink, startled, and back away.

"I'm Alice," she chuckles. "Bella's little sister."

I grin, remembering how much Bella loved her little sister. "Bella told me a lot about you."

"Sure she did," she rolls her eyes playfully. "Bella and Ellie will be right down. Ellie's just changing into a different dress."

_Ellie_. Elizabeth. My daughter.

"She's changing again?" Renee chuckles. "That child must change dresses about twenty times a day. She loves dresses, Edward," she tells me. "And she loves teddy bears, and enjoys playing football, and her favorite meal is a nice, well-done roast with jacket potatoes and peas, just like her mother."

She says it all as if she knows it's important to fill me in on these bits of information.

My stunned expression makes her once more. She claps her hands together.

"Oh you're just going to love her, Edward!"

"I…"

I don't get a chance to finish my sentence, my thought even, because out of my periphery, I see movement. When I look up the narrow staircase again, I see Bella, climbing down slowly. She's got a small child wrapped in her arms, who is dressed in a pink dress with layers and layers of that puffy, see-through material ballerinas wear on their costumes. The child's face is turned away from me, towards her mother. Bella whispers something close to her ear.

Slowly, her head turns, and she locks her eyes on me.

My eyes.

My daughter.

I stand frozen, clutching the bear tightly to me.

"Elizabeth, darling, remember I told you we were having company? This is a friend of mine…"

She trails off when Elizabeth squirms out of her arms. Without breaking our gaze, she takes a couple of small, slow steps to me; her long, copper hair flowing in waves in front of her shoulders.

Her eyes are mine, but _somehow_ they're her mother's too.

Her hair is mine, but it's got her mother's silky shine; her texture.

Her features are mine, but there's _so_ much of Bella in them: the shape of her lips is mine, but the pink hue is Bella; the smattering of freckles just under her eyes...Bella.

Her warmth; the sweet warmth that emanates from her, that's _all_ Bella.

Yes, I understand what Bella means about making a choice, but there's no choice to make. Nothing else in the world matters. Not what this means for the Senatorial race or for my future in the White House; not what my father's done, or Rosalie, or any other person or force that ever tried to keep me away from my daughter and her mother.

Elizabeth.

My daughter.

I watch as she gazes at me, this child that's both me and Bella – the best of both of us.

We loved for a short time, but it was enough for a lifetime of beauty. All Bella's purity, her innocence, her life; it's all standing before me now.

I'm not even sure when I've dropped to my knees.

She gazes at me quietly, and then her small, little hand reaches out, tracing just under my right eye.

"Your eyes…"

She has the voice of an angel – and her mother's beautiful accent.

"Are you my daddy?"

I think I hear gasps behind her; behind me. I can't be sure. I can't be sure of anything anymore other than the fact that I already love this being with my entire soul. I will always love her, always protect her. _She _is my redemption, my answer, my reason.

_She_ is my legacy.

"Yes," I say, my voice shaking, my vision blurring.

"_Don't ever let others read you, Edward…"_

I smile at her, even while the tears streak down my face.

"Yes, Elizabeth, I'm your daddy."

She continues gazing at me in wonder. And then I reach down and pick up her other hand - warm, soft – and hold on tight.

Her emerald eyes twinkle, and then…she smiles at me.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Love hearing from you guys…**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	19. Ch 19 - Elizabeth London Swan

**A/N: Alright guys, the second to last 'Then' chapter! **Pouts at the throng of cheers that erupt****

**Betad (and re-betad) by my girl Michelle Renker Rhodes. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Ch. 14 – Elizabeth London Swan**

**Then:**

**BPOV**

When my water breaks one morning in early April, I'm home alone. My mum is at work and Alice in school, and Jake and Rose are far off in London.

I'm not due until May 1st. This is supposed to be a May Day baby. No one – least of all me – is expecting this.

Terrified, I call my mum's school, and when I finally get through to her, she promises to be home in fifteen minutes. Then, I call Rose's mobile.

"Right. You hold that kid in for a few hours at least, Bella."

I snort in response.

"I'm serious," she says. "It's going to take me at least a couple of hours to get there. Did you call Jake yet?"

"No."

"Do you want me to call him? I think he's in classes right now-"

"I'm not making any more bloody phone calls," I growl.

"Got it. I'll call him."

OOOOOOOOOO

Mum gets us to the hospital in fifteen minutes, and I'm wheeled up to Labor and Delivery. Dr. Gerandy meets us a short while later.

She smiles. "Alright, Isabella, you held this baby in nicely, but I guess he or she just doesn't want to wait any longer."

"Is it too soon, Doctor?" I ask nervously.

"Thirty-six weeks is just fine, Isabella." She pats my hand. "Let's just get through it an hour at a time, yes?"

I nod anxiously.

Six hours later, the contractions are agonizing – one on top of the other. Doctor Gerandy examines me one more time as silent tears of torture stream down my cheeks.

"There, there, Darling," my mum smiles, wiping away the sweat on my forehead with a wet cloth.

"Alright, Isabella, I do believe we're almost ready to start pushing," the Doctor confirms.

I'm in too much pain to answer one way or another. Rose squeezes my hand while Jake pushes my hair back, whispering in my ear,

"You'll be fine, Bella. You'll be fine."

For some reason, his presence, his touch is really irritating the shit out of me, but again, I'm in too much torment to stop and tell him to leave me be right now.

The doctor steps out, and a team of nurses suddenly appear, moving around quickly, setting up the small bassinette a few feet away and adjusting my bed. I shut my eyes tight against the pain and breathe in and out, in and out.

"Right, Daddy. You need to put some scrubs on before we begin."

I stop breathing. My eyes pop open, and for one glorious second I think that maybe…I let myself believe that perhaps...

One of the nurses is addressing a startled looking Jake.

"Uhm…okay, I'll just-"

"He's not the father," I spout quickly, forgetting my breathing techniques and sitting up slightly despite the agony.

The nurse stares at me; it feels as if the frenzied action going on all about me has abruptly stopped.

"He's not staying. He's not the father."

The action suddenly starts again. "Alright, Mummy, then who will be staying with you?"

Along with the contractions, a spasm of pain grips my chest now. I squeeze my eyes shut again, lie against the bed once more.

I start crying. "He's not here," I choke through each spasm. "He's not _here_."

He's thousands of miles away – on his honeymoon.

"Mum?" I sob, and then feel my mum's hand wrap around mine.

"I'm here, Bella. Mum's here," she says comfortingly.

I smile weakly, and then whimper just as another contraction hits me.

OOOOOOOOOO

About forty-five minutes later, I'm on my sixth round of pushing.

"Bloody hell, this hurts!" I yell.

My mum snorts. "Not as much fun getting that baby out as it was getting it in there, is it?"

I glare at her while Doctor Gerandy and the nurses try to conceal discreet chuckles.

OOOOOOOOOO

"She's a ginger!"

When Doctor Gerandy hands me my baby, still slightly bloody and sticky, I'm shocked to see that it's a girl. I'd been convinced throughout the entire pregnancy that it would be a boy: a boy who would grow up to look exactly as his father…

"Oh my God, she's a ginger!" my mum proclaims again, chuckling and gazing down at my daughter. "Bella, Love, you didn't warn me that my grandchild would be a ginger!"

I gaze down at my daughter and am filled with warmth and awe and fascination. Everything else suddenly leaves my body, every doubt and hurt and sadness I've felt throughout these last few months. There's not enough room because I'm suddenly full of the fiercest adoration.

I chuckle at my mum's words, because yes, she is slightly ginger. The bits of fuzz on her hair are apricot-tinted; her peachy skin almost translucent. She's like a magical fairy - _my_ fairy.

I begin crying again, but this time they're tears of a love and joy I'd never thought possible.

My mum was right; everything else does fade away.

OOOOOOOOOO

A few hours later, the baby is quietly nursing. It feels…strange having her sucking on me nipple like that, but at the same time…so natural.

"That right there looks painful," Rose exclaims.

"It's not, but the nurses have warned me that it might get slightly so."

"Right, I think I'm just going to give my child formula," Rose continues. I roll my eyes at her.

"So her dad has red hair then, does he?" Alice blurts, lightly touching her new niece's head.

The entire room is silent.

I shake my head, watching my daughter sate her hunger, her eyes closed in comfort. "His hair is rather…copper, sort of a brownish red."

"It may darken then," my mum murmurs. "Oh my God," she chuckles yet once more. "She's a ginger!"

For a long while, no one says anything; all of us enthralled as the baby feeds from my rather swollen breast.

OOOOOOOOOO

After a couple of hours, my mum and Alice go home, promising to be back early in the morning. Then Rose leaves. I'm left alone with Jake.

"She's really beautiful, Bella," he tells me quietly.

"Thanks," I answer, gazing down at my daughter, asleep in my arms.

"I'm…rather glad I was able to share this day with you."

His words spear me, though I know that's not what he meant to do. And though I know he didn't mean to hurt me, I can't help feeling irrationally irritated with him; irritated that he was here today, when he shouldn't have been, when someone else should've been, someone else should've been there instead of my mum.

"I would've stayed before…if you'd wanted me to."

I don't answer him. I don't want to think of these things – not today.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Well, what are you going to name her then?" my mum smiles the next morning, while my daughter feeds yet again.

"I don't know. I want it to be something special, something with meaning. Perhaps I'll name her after you," I smile.

"Hah!" she scoffs. "Renee? Oh Darling, you can do better than that! And then the confusion we'd have at home? Renee, no I mean little Renee, no I mean big Renee. Oh, Love, it would be an absolute nightmare!"

"You can name her after me!" Alice pipes in. "I won't mind the confusion at home!"

"Or after me!" Rose adds.

I roll my eyes.

OOOOOOOOOO

Rose does Mum the favor of taking Al home later on, and we spend some time alone together, three generations of Swan women.

Mum is holding the baby, cooing and talking to her in that tiny voice I suppose grandmothers reserve for their grandchildren, while the telly drones on in the background.

"Well what is it then, Bella? This child needs a name! We can't keep calling her Baby Swan for God's sakes!" She laughs, and the baby squirms in her arms, small lips puckering as she sleeps. I'm anxious to get her back, but I wouldn't dare do that to Mum. So instead, I start playing with the telly controller to keep my hands busy.

"I don't know, Mum. Jake suggested Serena earlier. I suppose it's different."

"Serena," my mum repeats. "She doesn't really look like a 'Serena,' does she?"

I take a look at my daughter; with her apricot-hair and gray eyes and translucent skin. Even at less than twenty-four hours old, she looks like _him_, she does.

"No," I say gently, smiling, "she doesn't."

My mum sighs. "Jake has been around a lot lately."

I stare up at the telly. "Yes, he has."

She's quiet for a while.

"He has hopes you know, Bella. Especially now that the baby has been born."

"I…"

Despite my efforts, I find myself thinking of _him,_ of how things should've been. We should've been deciding our daughter's name together. I close my eyes, but the images stay there: him gazing down at me proudly when she popped out, him cradling our daughter in his arms…touching his finger gently to her lips…loving her as much as I already do…

And suddenly there he is - on the telly.

I suppose I'd been looking for him. He's been on CNN quite a bit over the past few days, having gotten married a week ago to Tanya Martin, daughter of Senator Aro Martin - who is expected to make an announcement any day regarding his plans to run for President. I watched bits and pieces of the wedding coverage on the telly the other day. She looked beautiful in her glittering white dress; he looked utterly handsome in his tuxedo. They both wore lovely smiles for the cameras: the son of Congressman Carlisle Cullen – patriarch of one of the oldest political families in the nation - and the daughter of the man who is probably the future President of the United States. With the groom's political pedigree and probable ambitions, the reporters said they are probably the next Camelot, quite possibly the future JFK and Jackie.

Now, the channel talks of all the benefits that will come from this political marriage made in heaven.

A silent tear rolls down my cheek. I can feel my mum watching me. She looks up at the telly, back at me, and then returns my daughter to my arms.

"If you want to know what I think, Darling," she murmurs, "I think that no matter what, this child deserves a part of her father." She holds my gaze. "Someday, she'll want to know where she came from. She'll want to know her heritage."

"Mum, I _can't_-"

"Just give her _something_ of his, something of _her_ legacy. I think that would be the most special name of all."

OOOOOOOOOO

After my mum leaves, my daughter and I are alone. She nurses quietly in my arms. My nipples _are_ starting to feel sore.

I flip back to CNN and wait…and eventually…his face is back on, grinning, looking so serene and satisfied and…in love I suppose – or as close as his legacy will allow him to get to love.

He made his choice, and he appears content with it.

I gaze down at my daughter's sweet, cherub face…and smile.

"_Have you ever been in love, Bella?"_

…_.._

"_Your mum?"_

"_Her name was Elizabeth."_

…_.._

"_Just give her __**something**__ of his, something of __**her**__ legacy. I think that would be the most special name of all."_

"Elizabeth," I murmur, watching her sleep in my arms, her pouty lips parted in slumber. "Elizabeth...London...Swan."

"_Have you ever been in love, Bella?"_

I nod slowly.

"Yes, Edward. Yes, I was in love. I _am_ in love."

The thing is, out of the both of us - Edward and I – I'm pretty sure that _I'm_ the one who finally found _true_ love.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I know I've been a total fail at getting back to you guys lately, but I promise, I WILL get to it. Between RL and writing this up, time is tight!**

**Hope you guys enjoyed the numerous updates this week. I so, so, so enjoyed hearing from you all. We'll be back to our regular posting schedule next week, and have ONE more 'Then' chapter left before we're all in the present. **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	20. Chapter 20 - Bewildered

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading, guys. Love hearing from you all, all your different opinions and point of views. It makes everything so much more interesting. :)**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 20 - Bewildered **

**BPOV**

**Now:**

One weekend, when Alice and I were little girls, our dad took us into the countryside to visit some relatives while Mum stayed home to "relax with a bottle of wine."

We called our relatives Aunty Jane and Uncle Alex. They were pretty old, actually second or third cousins of our dad, but they were quite nice. Aunty Jane's terriers had just given birth to a litter, and Alice and I would spend what felt like hours upon hours merely sitting in front of the box the puppies were kept in, watching them play and feed from their mother.

"Don't touch the puppies, girls," Aunty Jane would remind us gently and often.

We did try to listen-

-most of the time. Until one time when I simply couldn't help it and I reached into the box, carefully lifting the smallest one, the runt…

The next thing I knew, Brady, the sire, came charging from across the room, growling quite fiercely, his sharp teeth bared and threatening. Uncle Alex caught him right before he could snap at my face.

I cried for the next two hours, angry at Brady – who wasn't even punished.

"Fathers protect," Uncle Alex kept repeating. "It's their job."

Then, they simply took the box of puppies, Becca the terrier mum and Brady the dad and put them in the garden out back for a while, letting the puppies out while we were instructed to stay inside. I watched from the window as Brady licked his puppies, and the little runt I'd picked up rested happily on his stomach.

"Why is he so mean when others try to touch them?" I asked my dad when he came to watch with me.

"Because they're his babies."

I observed them quietly, the way all the puppies nipped and played with Brady.

"Why are they so comfortable with him? How do they _know_ he's their daddy?"

My dad's mustache twitched. He snorted with a smile. "It's nature, Bella Love. They just know."

OOOOOOOOOO

Whether it was the eyes, or the hair, or the similarities in their features that even a child as young as Elizabeth could pick up on, or whether it was something entirely different altogether, some ingrained natural instinct told Ellie that Edward was her father. Somehow, she'd just known.

Ellie has always been a friendly child. She makes conversation easily with other children, plays with them, and smiles happily when I take her to the market, and others stop to tell us how beautiful she is.

But this is different.

She's _comfortable_ with him, a comfort that usually arises with familiarity, familiarity that arises from having known someone all your life.

_That's_ how she's taken to him - as if she's known him all along, as if he's simply been away on a trip and has now returned.

The white teddy bear he brought her, she's gone nowhere without it since he gave it to her three days ago.

They gaze at each other with equal awe and fascination.

They ask each other a myriad of questions:

What's your favorite food?

What's your favorite color?

The title 'Daddy' flows out of her mouth with such ease, as if she's uttered it all her life.

I feel as if I'm missing something…

I think back to my own dad. Would _I_ have known him anywhere? Would _I_ have instantly loved him?

Would _he_ have instantly loved me?

OOOOOOOOOO

"Daddy, come in the water with me!"

We're on the beach - Ellie, Edward and I. We've come because she's told him all about how much she loves the beach, how close it is to our house, how much she enjoys splashing in the water even though Mummy – me – tells her that most days the Thames estuary is too cold for splashing. Edward indulges her, and though he's in trousers and a polo shirt, he folds the hems up and goes in, gripping tightly to her hand, laughing as the water laps at his bare shins and at Ellie's thighs, as drops of ocean water land on their matching manes of hair.

I sit on the warm sand a few meters away, holding Ellie's new bear, "Snowy," for her, so that he doesn't get wet, wiping sand off my shorts, watching them play and get to know each other more and more, connect on a level I've never seen my daughter connect on with anyone - besides myself. It's fascinating - and terrifying beyond belief.

"Your mom's right, Elizabeth," he chuckles after a few minutes before shuddering playfully, making Ellie giggle. "This water _is_ freezing. Come on; let's go back on the sand."

My daughter holds his hand and follows without protest, without question, much the same way _I_ once followed him.

A chill runs through me even as the warm, beach breeze strokes my bare arms.

Three days. They've spent the past three days together, but it's as if they've known each other their entire lives. She looks up at him adoringly. He looks down at her the same way.

But for how long?

And what happens now?

Edward and I haven't fully discussed it yet because none of this was supposed to happen – at least not yet. I hadn't been expecting it to happen this way. Ellie wasn't supposed to know that he was her father – not _yet,_ not until I could be sure that he wouldn't change his mind this time; that he wouldn't _leave_ to figure out what he really wanted.

But things are out of my hands now; they've been so since he walked into the house, into her life.

Now all I can do is watch - and pray.

I hold out a towel as Ellie nears – in her bright pink bathing suit with the tutu round it - and wrap it about her tightly, holding her close to me, feeling her inner warmth despite how cold the water has made her skin – praying silently once again.

_Please don't let him break her heart. _

"You're freezing, Ellie."

"No, I'm not, Mummy." She smiles up at me, her dimples on display, emerald eyes bright and excited.

"I guess I shouldn't have let her go in the water?" Out of my periphery, I see Edward run a hand through his hair - his go-to nervous action.

"It's fine," I say, keeping my eyes on Ellie, smiling down at her. "The towel will warm her up."

I sit back on the sand and bring Ellie down with me, sitting her over my lap, running my fingers down her copper hair.

Edward stands there.

I'm trying to be as normal as possible around him, for Ellie's sake, yet I know that there's still so much unresolved between us. All of that will have to wait though, until I know exactly how Ellie will fit into his life – _if_ he's willing to fit her into his life permanently. If not, I've just let the same man who promised me the world and took it away do the same to my daughter.

How will I live with myself if that happens?

"Daddy, come sit with us," Ellie invites Edward.

He grins down at her and plops down on the sand at our side, making Ellie giggle again. Everything he does makes her giggle, fills her heart. It's _so_ bloody familiar.

They gaze at each other for a few moments, she on my lap, he sitting with his legs crossed over the sand, forearms resting on knees.

"There's a small beach," - his voice is full of an energy and excitement I've only heard in the past couple of days - "behind our house back in New York, and in the summers, the water there gets really warm. You're going to love it." He grins at her.

I can practically feel my daughter's small frame vibrating with anticipation. She turns her head round, looking at me sideways.

"Mummy, is that the house you told me about? That you said was so pretty?"

I want to reach out and choke him.

"Yes, Darling, it is," I respond softly instead.

Ellie looks to Edward again, cocking her head to the side. "Daddy, where have you been? Why haven't you come to see us before?"

And there it is – the question I knew would be coming up. Of course it would come up. Ellie isn't two years old. And besides, she's a very precocious child. She's simply been biding her time; waiting for what in her six year-old mind would be the right moment to ask.

How do I explain this? How do I explain to a six-year old that the world has conspired against her knowing her father? That it's probably still conspiring?

"Ellie, darling, it's hard to-"

"I was lost, Elizabeth." Edward grins softly at her, his eyes – his _entire_ expression – tender, open in a way I've never seen before.

She giggles. "Daddy, you're too big to get lost."

"I'm not," he chuckles. "I was lost…" – he holds my gaze for a few seconds before turning his attention back to my daughter…to _our_ daughter – "...for a long time." He sighs and looks away from her for a moment, dropping his eyes to the sand. When he looks back up at her, his eyes sparkle with truth and sincerity.

How can she _not_ love that? How can she not _trust_ that?

"But I've found my way now, Elizabeth, and I promise, to both you and your mom, that I will _never_ allow myself to be that lost again."

He never calls her Ellie. To him, she's simply Elizabeth. I can see how she treasures that, how her face lights up at the sound of her full name from his lips.

"I'll help you find your way if you get lost again, Daddy. Mummy and I can help. Mummy has a little machine that talks to her and gives her directions when we're in the car." She gestures with her small hands, making the shape of a square.

Despite my anxiety, I grin towards Edward. "She means a GPS."

He makes the shape of an 'O' with his mouth, nodding his head slowly, chuckling deeply.

"That would definitely help."

Ellie's head turns towards the water. It's always fascinated her.

She turns back to Edward.

"Daddy, are you going to leave again?"

She's pulling no punches now.

Edward holds her gaze. "I do have to leave in a few days, Elizabeth, but I _will_ be back – very soon."

"To America? Where you live?"

He nods wistfully. "To America."

"Nanny says America is very far – across the ocean."

"It is far. But I promise you that I'll be back very soon, in just a few days. I'll be back over and over again from now on. I'll _always_ be here for you, Elizabeth." He reaches out and takes her tiny hand in his. "I promise you that too."

She lifts herself off my lap - leaving my bare legs wet and cold - and moves to his. And when he wraps her in his arms, she melts into him, nudging her head under his jaw, wrapping her little arms round his chest.

"I love you, daddy."

Edward takes deep, uneven breaths. "I love you too, Elizabeth, my little, little girl."

It's beautiful.

It's terrifying.

I want to laugh and scream and cry and pull her away and run off somewhere he'll never find us.

So that he can't let her down. So that he can't tell her he made previous promises that trump the ones he's just made to her.

But it's already too late for that.

_He came back!_ a little voice tells me - _reminds_ me. _He came back for you, Bella._

He came back, but for what? Would he have simply played games again? Would another phone call have taken him away once more?

Would he have been a father to Ellie?

I hate that I don't know the answers; I hate that Rose took the possibility of my knowing those answers away from me forever.

I can't think. I want to curl into myself right here over the warm sand. Instead, I hold my breath and stand up, walking away towards the water.

OOOOOOOOOO

I hear them talking and laughing behind me while I stare at the afternoon sun burning through the sky, glittering off the water. A few minutes later, I feel him behind me; feel his breath against my neck. I close my eyes and steel myself.

"So when _will_ you be leaving, then?"

"Sunday afternoon, after Elizabeth's game. I don't want to go, but I need to take care of a few things back home."

I nod. "There's a lot we need to discuss."

"I know."

I draw in a deep breath and turn around. He's standing so close. A few meters away, Ellie sits over the sand, making castles where fairy tales come true, and the prince never breaks his promises.

"You shouldn't have made her those promises."

"Why not, Bella?"

"What if you can't keep them? What if you realize that it'll be too hard to keep them?"

He closes his eyes, jaw clenching tightly.

"I _will_ keep every single promise I make to our daughter."

I glare at him and cross my arms against my chest. "Have you figured out how to handle things so as not to disrupt her life? I don't want my daughter's world to be turned into a media circus."

He moves in, closing the space between us, dipping his head to meet my eye level.

"First of all, she's _our_ daughter, Bella." He gestures between the tight space separating us with his finger. "_Our_ daughter. And yes, I've come up with what I think is the least disruptive way to announce her existence-"

"Announce her existence?" I hiss. "What do you mean 'announce her existence'?"

His nostrils flare. "Bella, I _have_ to announce it."

At my infuriated reaction, he reaches out and cups my face in his hands. I'm startled. I want to shake him off but can't seem to muster the strength.

"Listen to me. _Listen to me_," he repeats at what must be my defiant expression. "I've contacted my lawyers back home and given them all of Elizabeth's information. They're drawing up a new will, child support requirements, back payments-"

"I don't want or need any of that!" I hiss, though he's squeezing my face so tightly I must look comical.

"I know you don't want or need it," he hisses right back, "but I'm going to provide it because she's my daughter too, and it's my right and responsibility as much as it's yours!"

I glare at him.

"Bella," he says my name in a clipped tone, as if daring me to defy whatever he's about to say. "I'm asking you, from the bottom of my heart, to _please_ not oppose yourself to my giving _our_ daughter her rightful surname."

My heart drops to my feet. I push his hands off and turn away from him, tears stinging my eyes.

"This is…this is all happening too fast, Edward. She won't understand. You need to slow it down."

"I don't think she'll have any trouble at all understanding, Bella." I hear the way his voice shakes, as if he's trying to reign himself in. "You hear the questions she asks. She's not a slow child. She's open and honest and intelligent, and if she does have trouble understanding, we'll help her through it. I don't think this is happening too fast at all. This all should've happened years ago."

"That's not my fault," I snap.

He doesn't answer at first. Then he simply sighs. "Look, I'm not trying to assign blame here, not right now. Now, all I want to do is spend as much time as I can with my daughter, make sure that she's well taken care of and that she has everything that's rightfully hers."

"She _has_ been well taken care of!"

"I'm not saying she hasn't!"

He sighs. "Look, can we just…have a civil conversation here? Let's leave the blame and accusations out of it for now. I'm trying to tell you how I plan to handle this."

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, the scent of the beach calming me.

He's right. I know he's bloody right. But I feel so tightly wound up these past few days that I fear I may actually explode. I'm scared and angry and worried, and I wish I had someone to talk to about everything. Alice is still so young, and I don't want to worry my mum with all my concerns; besides, she bloody adores Edward, loves the way he is with Ellie. So does Alice.

And Rose…no, I no longer have Rose.

With another deep breath, I turn back round, forcing myself to hold his gaze.

"Go ahead."

He nods once. "I've contacted Kate and asked her to schedule a press conference for Monday afternoon."

"What? A bloody press conference, are you mad?"

"Bella," he says, nostrils flaring, "I _have_ to announce it. If this gets out on its own, it'll be worse-"

"Worse for whom? For you?"

"No! For you! _And_ for Elizabeth!"

I press my lips tightly together.

"You're a journalist, Bella! You know how the press works! They get a hold of this on their own, and all sorts of stories will start running rampant, mostly about you, the _other_ woman, and the love child that was born from whatever they turn it into, which will probably be as sensational and ugly as they can manage!"

"And what are you going to turn it into?" I sneer. "A love story? Are you going to proclaim to the world that you couldn't help screwing around behind your fiancée's back because you fell in love? I _still_ come out looking like the whore in that!"

His eyes flare. "First of all, whatever I do say about it will be the truth, Bella. Trust me, I'll never let you come out looking like a whore."

I snort. "Trust you."

He closes his eyes for two seconds before opening them back up. "Second, I was not engaged at the time I met you that weekend."

"Yes, you were!" I retort quickly. "You _told_ me! What, do you really think I would've forgotten that?" I ask indignantly.

"Bella!" He grips my arms then takes what looks like a deep, calming breath. "When I received that phone call…that…last phone call…I was informed that my engagement – an engagement I had never agreed to - had just been announced. I was _not_ engaged when I met you."

"What do you mean 'you were _informed'_?"

"Bella, I was an idiot, a stupid, goddamned idiot. I lied to you when I met you, yes, by not telling you about...Tanya. By not telling you that I was dating someone. But when I met you...nothing else mattered, Bella, and yes, I should've told you from the very beginning and let you decide what you wanted. I should've told them all to go fuck themselves on the phone that day. I fucked up - _so badly_," he emphasizes, "in so many ways. But I was _not_ engaged."

I blink rapidly, confused. "Then why…_why_ did you tell me that you were?"

He runs a hand through his hair before gripping my arms again. "God, I don't even know why I made it sound that way. At first, I thought maybe…I was protecting you somehow, making it easier for you to…forget. I thought that if I made you believe that I didn't care it would be easier for you to let go. But then I _couldn't_ do it and...I don't know, Bella," he growls. "All I know is that while I was trying to explain things to you, I was so…goddamned _shocked_ and confused myself. Yes, I hesitated when I should've known all along and I'll always hate myself for that moment, but I _didn't_ sleep with you while engaged to someone else. I would've _never_ used you that way, Bella."

"But…"

I search his eyes, looking for the lie, but…but it's not there.

When I close my eyes, a soft whimper escapes from within my lips. Jesus, have I been wrong about _everything_? My mind swims, leaving me bewildered, floating over a wide river of confusion; bare, stripped of so many of the beliefs that have kept me afloat for so many years.

I choke on a stifled sob, covering my mouth to try to hide it. "God damn it. God damn you, Edward, and all of your lies."

"Bella…" he says softly, the way he used to say my name, the way that used to burn me from the inside out. I suddenly feel his hand cover mine…his fingers brush over my cheek, under my eye, coaxing me to open, but I can't.

"Bella," he whispers, "when I told you I wanted you with me, when I said I wanted to bring you home with me, I meant that Bella." I feel the tips of his fingers caress my face, feel them circle my lips. "_That_ was _never_ a lie."

The warm breeze flutters my hair, his breath tickles my skin. I hear the tide come in and leave. I hear Ellie playing, talking to Snowy just a few meters away. From the outside, anyone would assume it was a perfect moment…as perfect as things seemed then…until…

My eyes open. "Perhaps that wasn't a lie, but as soon as you received that phone call, it was all over."

He drops his hands, gazing at me with eyes full of pain; of apology.

"It was one moment of hesitation, Bella. As soon as you ran out of that room, I knew-"

I shake my head and look away from him, look down at the wet sand under our feet.

"I can't do this right now, Edward. It's too much, too overwhelming. You keep throwing these…revelations my way…and I simply _can't_." I take a deep breath and look back up at him. "Please, please, let's just focus on how we're going to get Ellie through this."

He doesn't answer straight away. "I understand," he says solemnly after a long while. There are a few more moments of silence before he exhales heavily.

"As I was saying, if I hold a press conference, _we_ can control the information better. I'll announce that I'm withdrawing from the senatorial race to spend time getting to know my daughter and make a plea for privacy. The American people can be pretty understanding at times. I think if I announce it, rather than let it leak out, they'll be more willing to leave us alone quicker. It will still make headlines, Bella, and I apologize, but there's absolutely nothing I can do about that."

I quietly absorb this plan, while in the background Ellie sings happily to herself.

I must admit, he's probably right.

"So you'll be withdrawing from the race then?"

He nods.

I look down at the wet sand that washes over our feet, feeling…guilty all of a sudden.

"I want to spend time with my daughter. A senatorial campaign would only get in the way right now."

"Your father won't like that."

I hear him snort, but he says nothing else.

I look back up at him. "Is that _really_ why you're withdrawing?"

"Yes." He looks at me as if this should be obvious and then raises a curious brow. "Why, Bella? What were _you_ thinking?"

"I…" – I release a heavy sigh. "…when I first decided to tell you about Ellie, I thought…I thought you'd resign from the race to spare the Cullen name from the embarrassment…and that you'd beg me to keep Ellie a secret."

I feel shame wash over my face and drop my head again.

A couple of minutes pass, and he releases a long, heavy breath. "After what I've done and what you've believed of me, I suppose I can't blame you for being so ready to think the worst."

I can't look up at him – I can't deny it.

He sighs. "Is that _really_ the only reason you'd decided to tell me, then? To destroy my career?"

I hear the pain in his voice. He's becoming so much easier for me to read, to understand. I don't know how I feel about that.

"I…yes, Edward," I admit. "At first, I just wanted to…hurt you, because you…because I thought you'd never looked back, but then…" – I shake my head – "…even before I knew you _had_ come back, I couldn't go through with it. I don't know what's true and what's not right now, Edward, but there's one thing I've always known: my daughter, _our_ daughter is _not_ a punishment, and I pray to God that you don't..."

I trail off, unable to finish.

A few moments later, he lifts my chin with his forefinger, forcing me to hold his gaze.

"Bella, I will never turn my back on our daughter."

My bottom lip quivers. "You'd better not, Edward, no matter _who_ calls you this time, because if you do, I swear I'll make you regret it."

"I will _never_ turn my back on our daughter," he repeats with even more vehemence, and in his eyes, behind the words, it seems as if he might have wanted to say more.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**It's hard to let go of a belief system we've held on to for so many years…**

**Coming up next, the last "Then" chapter, and then we'll be all in the present. But it's an important one, guys…**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	21. Ch 21 How We Got to Now

**A/n: Happy Friday! I'm updating a few hours early here. Are my lovelies down under still up?**

**I just want to make sure that everyone knows**** that we are NOT near the end of this story yet! This chapter is the last "Then" chapter, but there's still plenty of "Now" left. Exactly how many chapters, I don't know, but enough. So yeah, keep reading… :)**

**We have two POVs in this chapter, so keep an eye open for when they switch. :)**

**Betad by my girl Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Ch. 16 – How We Got to Now:**

**THEN:**

**Rose POV**

**20 years ago – Rose Aged Six:**

When I open my eyes, it's bright outside and the birds are chirping outside my window, so I know it's okay to get up. Mummy has warned me _never_ to get up for any reason if it's still dark. She says monsters come after naughty little girls who wake their mummies up when they're sleeping.

I tip toe quietly to Mummy's bedroom across the dark hall. As I slowly open the door, her dresser comes into view first, full of papers and empty bottles both still standing and knocked over. I open wider and her bed comes into view. She's still sleeping, I can hear her loud snores, which means she had loads of her bottles last night and won't be up for a long, long time yet. I open the door yet a bit wider and see the bloke that was here 'til late last night. He's got one arm thrown over her and is snoring even louder than Mummy – that's loud.

I make my breakfast; one of those scones my friend Bella's mum gave me to bring home yesterday, and a bowl of milk with the last bit of cereal left. I hope mummy remembers to buy me more cereal soon.

I watch the telly.

Once all my cartoons are done, I tip toe quietly to Mummy's room again: They're still sleeping.

I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth quietly, hoping Mummy wakes soon because though it looks like she may have forgotten, I haven't. Today is Saturday. Today is the day she promised me that my Daddy would be visiting. Not the man asleep in her bed right now, but my real Daddy.

He lives far away. I don't see him very much. Actually, my memories of him are starting to get kind of fuzzy because it's been a long, long time since I've seen him. But the other day, while she served me a bowl of cereal for supper, Mummy promised that my real Daddy would be coming to see me on Saturday. I remember that she said Saturday. Today is Saturday.

In my room, I put on my prettiest dress, the white one with the ruffles on the hem. I smooth down the wrinkles as best as I can because Mummy has forgotten to iron it. That's alright, I still look pretty. I brush my hair out and pin it back with a few clips.

I want to look so pretty for my Daddy so that when he sees me, he won't ever want to leave again. Maybe he'll take me home with him…

I go back and watch the telly quietly some more.

I'm not sure how much time has passed because I've fallen asleep on the sofa, waiting. I go to the kitchen to look at the clock that has real numbers on it. It says three thirty-seven.

I wonder what time my Daddy is coming.

After fixing me hair again because it got messy when I fell asleep, I watch telly for a bit longer, but I'm not quite paying much attention anymore. I can't help the way my heart starts beating quicker. I feel it in my chest: boom, boom boom, boom boom boom. Something doesn't feel quite right.

I know Mummy will be upset at me, but I tip toe to her room once more, and this time I walk in.

"Mummy," I whisper, shaking her slightly. "Mummy, what time is my Daddy coming?"

She simply continues snoring, her mouth wide open, eyes closed.

"Mummy," I shake her a bit harder, "Mummy, the clock in the kitchen says three thirty-seven. What time is my Daddy coming?" I ask louder, feeling my heart pitter patter so so quickly.

"What?" Mummy groans, sounding confused, as if she's not sure what I've just asked.

I repeat it for her.

"Mummy, what time is my Daddy coming? I'm all dressed and waiting."

"Oh, Rosalie, for God's sakes," she moans, turning over on her stomach, keeping her eyes closed. "Can't you see that I have the most horrible headache? Leave me alone!"

"But Mummy, I'm waiting for my Daddy-"

She lifts herself up on her arms and looks at me angrily. My mummy is usually pretty when she's up, but her blond hair is a mess about her head. I think she forgot to take her make-up off last night, because she's got black gook all round her eyes, and red marks on her cheeks and neck, trailing down to her boobies.

And when she looks at me this way, she doesn't seem quite so pretty.

"Rosalie! Your father's not coming! He's too busy, he says! You don't need him anyway! Now go watch telly or something and let me sleep!"

She lowers herself back down and I stand there for a few minutes, until her familiar snores start up again.

I knock on the door to the pretty, white house a few blocks away.

Ms. Renee answers. She's a teacher at the school where I just started. She's also my best friend's mummy. She's more than just pretty. She's beautiful.

"Rose, darling," she says, searching round and behind me. "Did you walk here all by yourself?"

I nod. "Can I play with Bella?"

She gives me a funny look and then smiles sweetly. I like Ms. Renee's smiles. When my mummy smiles, it's usually because she's had too many of her bottles – and then she usually falls asleep straight away.

"Of course you can, Love. Come in." She pulls me in gently by my arm, and gives me another one of her sweet smiles.

"Have you had supper yet?"

I shake my head.

She looks…angry all of a sudden, shaking her head, but then quickly smiles softly at me once more.

"Well, you'll have supper with us, then. As a matter of fact, I'll call your mum and see if you can stay over and play with Bella all weekend. How would you like that?"

I grin up at her.

She disappears into the kitchen and my friend Bella comes down the stairs. Bella doesn't look like her mummy, but she smiles the same smile as her mummy. My mummy says that I look like my Daddy, except for the blond hair. She usually cries when she says this, I don't know why.

Bella stands in front of me.

"My Daddy didn't come," I tell her. "He's too busy."

She stares at me. And then takes my hand. "Well, you and I can be sisters, and my daddy can be your daddy, and my mummy can be your mummy."

I smile at her.

OOOOOOOOOO

**THEN:**

**BPOV: Six years ago:**

Ellie is a wonderful baby.

She barely cries, merely makes these sweet lip-smacking sounds when she wakes that lets me know she's hungry. I watch her as she takes her catnaps and sometimes realize I've done nothing but gaze at her throughout her entire slumber. She tends to scrunch her face up into the most adorable expressions; in sleep, her tiny hands remain fisted across her chest. She likes to be bundled tightly and squirms and complains when her arms come free from her bundler.

I'm deep in a love so pure that it keeps me warm on some pretty sleepless nights.

OOOOOOOOOO

In July when Ellie is three months old, I take her down to the beach for the first time.

The sun is warm today, though not too much so, and Alice, my mum, Rose and I have trekked through the narrow Leigh streets with all of Ellie's gear. We fall to the sand laughing because life feels good lately. My mum lost a good husband, Alice and I lost a great dad, Rose never had a dad and her mum was a poor imitation of a parent, and I had my heart crushed in one epic weekend.

But Ellie makes us all whole again.

Alice takes the baby from me and bounces her from one leg to the other. Ellie coos happily.

"Right. Be careful there, then. She's not your personal football," I tease my little sister.

She rolls her eyes the way fourteen year olds tend to do. "I'm quite capable of holding this here baby, Bella. Besides, she loves her Aunty Alice." She holds Ellie's hands and brings her head to her eye level. "Don't you love your Aunty? Don't you?" Then she cocks her head to the side and simply gazes at her. "Blimey, she does have the most beautiful eyes, Bella."

I smile and sigh deeply. "Yes, she does."

I snap picture after picture while my mum and Alice take Ellie to the shoreline. Rose walks along with me.

"Look at the way the sun lightens her hair," Rose muses. Then she chuckles. "It makes her look ginger again."

I nod wistfully. "I saw him on the telly yesterday. They mentioned him when talking about Senator Aro Martin, his father-in-law who's announced his run for President."

"That marriage is already working in his favor."

"Yes." I continue snapping away with the camera. "I suppose it is."

We're both quiet for a while.

"You need to stop watching CNN."

I sigh. "Yes, I suppose I should."

OOOOOOOOOO

My mum grows red roses in her back garden. When I was young, she used to try to get me to tend to them with her, but I honestly found it quite boring. Now that I'm older, I can appreciate their beauty.

I'm showing them to Ellie one late October afternoon before they disappear for the winter. She's six months old now, and she giggles and reaches out for them, but I keep them at arm's length because I don't want her pricking herself on their thorns. After a while, she starts getting irritated that I won't let her grab for them and squirms all about, waving her arms and kicking up her chubby legs.

I chuckle and kiss her copper curls. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, but Mummy doesn't want you to hurt yourself."

This explanation doesn't seem to satisfy her, and she keeps reaching out for them, beginning to whine. "Muhhmmm…muhmmmm."

Jake takes her from me and tries to distract her by pointing out the birds flying high overhead, but Ellie isn't having it; she wants the roses and kicks up a storm.

"Give her here," I say, reaching out for her once more. "I know a little girl that's ready for her nap."

Jake chuckles and hands her back to me, and when I carefully tuck her under my shirt, she stops squirming, sucking peacefully. I've become quite an expert at this nursing business.

"She's quite a kicker, that one," Jake chuckles. "Should make a great football player."

I smirk, turning with Ellie from side to side because the motion soothes her as she nurses. "That's what Rose says."

"When she gets older, I'll teach her to bounce a ball properly."

There's something about the way he says it, the confidence in his voice, as if he has a right to teach my daughter football, as if it's _his_ job.

I'm being irrational; of course, I know I am. But it doesn't quell the irritation running through my body. I seal my lips together in a tight line to avoid saying something stupid, something hurtful, something I know I shouldn't say.

Later on that evening, after Ellie is in bed for most of the night, Jake and I sit out in the garden on the rocking seat once more, while Ellie's monitor plays a lightshow in the dark. He puts an arm around me and pulls me close.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

I draw in a deep breath and look up at the night sky. "You're not…her _father_."

Jake sighs. "I know I'm not, Bella. But perhaps someday…"

I know what he's waiting for me to say, but I can't. I simply can't.

In the dark, I feel his eyes on me, his warm breath against my cheek, but all it does is make me remember...

"You know how I feel about you, Bella. You know how I feel about Ellie. I want a future with you, with both of you."

I shut my eyes tight and wish I could _make_ myself feel it back because Jake is such a good bloke. He's been with me through everything: through the highs and the lows of the last year. He loves Ellie, he really does. He loves me. He would be a good…father.

But I can't do this to him anymore. He has hopes, as my mum told me once months ago, as he's confessing right now. I'd thought that perhaps someday I could fulfill those hopes…make us a family...give Ellie the father she deserves...

Slowly, I pull away from him. "Jake…you're a great bloke..."

"That's never a good way to start a sentence," he chuckles humorlessly.

I chuckle back, just as devoid of amusement. "I can't, Jake." I turn and hold his gaze. In the dark, his black eyes shine like jewels. He's a beautiful man - outside _and_ in.

But he's not the man that still haunts my dreams: the one with the crooked grin, the tender hands, the never-ending kisses, the one with Ellie's eyes – and it's not fair to Jake.

"I wish I could because you're so good to my daughter and I."

"Perhaps in time, Bella, you'll come to feel the same."

The selfish part of me, the one who appreciates the attention he gives me, the comfort I feel around him, the assurance that his feelings are genuine, _wants_ to agree. Perhaps in time…perhaps if we just give it a little more time…

I shake my head. "Jake, I just don't have it in me to feel what you want me to feel, what you _deserve_ for me to feel. I can't _trust_ the way you deserve to be trusted. I can't _love_ the way you deserve to be loved. I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

OOOOOOOOOO

I stand outside the auditorium at the University of Essex's Southend campus, where after four and a half years of university, I've just earned my degree. Perhaps it's not from the school at which I'd started, but it's a good degree nonetheless.

Ellie is in my arms, holding my diploma and rolling and unrolling it curiously while my mum snaps picture after picture of the both of us, her cheeks red with excitement and so much pride it makes my chest ache. I miss my dad today.

It took me a bit longer than I'd planned because of Ellie's birth and the time I took off straight afterwards, but I've made it. Evening classes, weekend classes, jumbling a daughter along with crazy schedules and part-time jobs, but with everyone's help, I've kept my promise to Charlie Swan.

My mum walks over to me, beaming and hugs me tight again; she's done it at least a dozen times since the ceremony ended.

"I'm so proud of you! Ellie, aren't you proud of your mum?"

"So proud of you, Mummy! May I try on your hat?"

"Of course you may," I murmur, gazing into her beautiful green eyes as I place my cap atop her copper mane. "There, now you've graduated too."

She bounces in my arms. "Yay! I graduated with my mummy!"

My mum and I both laugh, while Alice rolls her eyes and takes her from me. "Ellie, Love, you're only three. You can't graduate from anything just yet." Then she looks up. "But with your adorable little self, you _can_ help me get the attention of that bloke over there." She grabs Ellie's hand tightly and walks away with her, towards some tall guy smiling her way.

"Alice, don't go using my daughter as bait!" I call out, shaking my head, but I know Alice is fiercely protective of her niece. She'll hold on tight to her and be careful.

My mum chuckles and wraps her arm round mine as we watch them walk on. All eyes turn to Ellie as she walks by in her lavender dress; she loves wearing dresses. She's breathtakingly beautiful, and I don't believe it merely because she's my daughter. With big, emerald eyes, the face of an angel, long bronze spiral curls, peachy cream skin, tall and despite her age, graceful she's an awe-inspiring creature.

She's her father through and through.

I see it physically, but also in the small things that I managed to learn about him, to pick up on during our short weekend together. Even at three and a half, she has a confidence about her: a tall, sure way of walking, her eyes always reflect her feelings. She sometimes has a way of lifting up only half of her mouth when she smiles.

But it's more than just that. Everyone who meets her is instantly captivated. She's inherited his charisma, his charm.

"Well, Darling," my mum says, breaking me out of my reverie. "You've done it, and quite quickly despite everything."

"I did it, Mum," I agree quietly. "Now, I just need to find a real job."

"The Leighway appreciates your work."

"Yes, Mum, but it's a very small newsletter, and the pay is horrid. I need to find something better now, so I can give Ellie the future she deserves."

My mum looks at me quietly. "Bella, Darling, just don't ever forget that there's more to a successful life than greatness."

I can't help snorting.

If his plans have proceeded the way he once told me – and from the snippets of his life that I've caught here and there, I'm quite sure they have - he's probably done with law school by now, probably on his way to becoming Congressman.

"Trust me, Mum, I know that."

OOOOOOOOOO

We're at the May Day celebrations in Old Leigh watching Alice being crowned May Queen. She looks like a beautiful, dark fairy with the crown of white flowers round her black, pixie hair.

"Mummy, may I be May Queen next year? That crown is so beautiful!"

"You're too young to be May Queen, Ellie," Rose teases her.

"But I'm four now," she frowns, holding up four fingers, "I'm a big girl."

"Yes, my Love," I beam down at her. "You're a very big girl."

"I'll make you a crown like that later on, Ellie," Rose promises her.

"But where will you get the flowers, Aunty Rose?"

"From your nanny's back yard."

"Only if you want Mum to kill you," I say.

Ellie and Rose both laugh.

"So anyway, as I was saying," Rose continues - she's been telling me about the latest misadventures between herself and her boyfriend Royce, a man I personally cannot stand, but it's her choice, her life, so I keep _most_ of my thoughts on Royce to myself - "He's got the bollocks to ask me if I liked it like that. What do I look like?" I asked him. "A masochist?"

I'm trying to shush her throughout the entire last two sentences, shaking my head, but she's just not getting it.

"Mummy, what's bollocks?"

I roll my eyes.

Rose chuckles heartily. "Sorry."

"Never mind Aunty Rose and her silly words. You'd think being a teacher she'd know better," I mutter, glaring Rose's way. She simply chuckles once more. "Look, the maypole dancing has started! Let's go join in!" I say excitedly to distract my ever curious daughter.

She claps her hands anxiously. "Yes, Mummy! Let's go!"

I chuckle and take her small hand in mine, leading her towards the colorful long ribbons wrapped around the metal pole.

Later on, Rose and I are sitting on a bench in the town centre, watching Ellie, who's a few feet away with Alice gazing at the Morris dancers with their bell pads and handkerchiefs doing their intricate steps.

"He's getting a divorce. They were talking about it on CNN yesterday."

Rose is silent for a while. "You really should stop watching CNN."

"I've got a career in the business world, Rose. I can't exactly stop watching CNN."

She rolls her eyes. "Why you took that job in London, I still don't understand."

"It's a great job with fantastic opportunities for growth and advancement. I've already been promoted once, and my boss continues to increase my responsibilities. I think he might be preparing me for another advancement."

"It's a great job, but it's not you, Bella. It's not what you've always wanted to do, which is to simply write."

I sigh. "I've got a child, Rose. I can't hold off for the perfect job. Besides, the pay is brilliant."

She purses her lips and stares away.

"Perhaps I should try contacting him again."

Rose draws in a deep breath of air and exhales lowly, keeping her eyes on the dancers. "For what, Bella?"

"To tell him about Ellie."

She presses her lips together the way she tends to when she's trying to think through her words.

"Bella, have you forgotten how he used you?"

"No, but-"

"What do you think he would do if he ever found out about Elizabeth? What did his father threaten you with the first time you tried to get in touch with him? They'd accuse you of lying, of making everything up; they'd say Ellie wasn't his child and demand DNA work and then probably claim those were forged too. They'd drag you through the mud and make you and Ellie's lives a living nightmare until you decided to wave the white flag just to get them off your back. Bella, Edward Cullen doesn't want a daughter, he wants the White House."

"Perhaps I should let him make that choice."

"Bella," she says, turning her eyes my way, her voice sterner now, "he made that choice already. When he promised you the world and then took it all back after one phone call, he made his choice. When he married the President's daughter just _nine months_ after everything he'd said to you, he proved what his priorities are."

I look down at my lap, thinking…wanting the best for my daughter…wishing I could give her a father…_her_ father.

Rose huffs, reading the indecision in my face. "Fine, let's suppose you did tell him about Ellie and let's suppose for argument's sake that he did wish to see her - out of curiosity, on a simple whim. Let's suppose he spent a few days with her, smiled at her, made her laugh. Let's even suppose he does care about her as much as a man like him can actually care for someone. Then Daddy Cullen calls and reminds him that if it ever gets out that he fathered a child while engaged to the President's daughter all his political aspirations are over. Who do you think he'd pick?"

I can't answer her.

"Do you want to take that chance?" she pushes. "Do you want to risk him breaking _Ellie's_ heart?"

I look up and gaze at my daughter. She's laughing with Alice, dancing and twirling around while her green eyes sparkle with the type of happiness only an innocent child can possess – a child who's never had her heart broken by a daddy she doesn't even know is missing.

"Bella…"

The tone of Rose's voice brings my attention back to her quickly. She's biting her lip, looking strangely...apprehensive.

She closes her eyes and exhales heavily before opening them up again. "Bella, you know that I only tell you these things because you're my sister and I love you, and I love that little munchkin dancing over there. You and your family, you're my _only_ family. I'd do _anything_ to protect you guys, you know that, right?"

I smile softly back at her. "Yes, Rose. I know that."

OOOOOOOOOO

The doctor slowly walks back towards my mum, Rose, Alice and I. His expression is as blank as doctors' expressions tend to be. I hate those serene masks. I want to reach out and shake him; force him to give me some kind of reaction.

"The blood work came back. Everything is within normal range. As I suspected, it's simply quite a nasty virus, Ms. Swan, and Ellie will be fine once the fever breaks."

"Oh, thank God," my mom breathes.

I close my eyes and let out the breath I've been holding since last night, when Ellie's weekend fever spiked up to one hundred and four, when she looked up at the ceiling, eyes glazed over, and started giggling hysterically, as if she was seeing something - and then called out "Daddy" of all things.

"And the hallucinations?" I ask.

"They're not uncommon at all in young children with high fevers. The nurse tells me she took her temperature again just a few minutes ago, and it was down to one hundred and one?"

"Yes, Doctor," I confirm.

"That's a good sign," he smiles.

"Why has she been sleeping for so long, then?" I continue inquiring, still unable to feel completely relieved.

"She's exhausted, Ms. Swan. The high fever has drained her energy, but you'll see, as soon as the fever drops even lower, she'll be up and about again. We'll keep her overnight just to make sure, but I suspect the fever will just continue falling from here on in."

"Thank you, Doctor." My voice shakes. Terror still runs rampant throughout my entire system. I won't be able to breathe, to let go of the tension in every muscle until I see those bright green eyes sparkling up at me again.

Ellie does wake - about an hour and a half later. And though her face is still flushed, true to the doctor's word she seems to have recovered the energy that her little body had been lacking all weekend. The nurse comes in and takes her temperature yet again: Ninety-nine point two.

Ellie is extremely talkative and sings happily along with the Disney Channel, which plays on her hospital telly. More than once, my mum has to ask her to stop playing with the lever that raises and lowers her hospital bed, to lower the volume on the telly, to lower her voice - because I can't. She can tear down this entire god damn hospital right now and I wouldn't stop her. She's awake, she looks better, she's laughing, and she's acting like a normal, energetic five year-old.

I can breathe once more.

Ellie drains her water pitcher, so I go fetch more water for her. When I arrive at the water cooler, it's empty, so I take a walk to the nurses' station to ask them to refill it.

"He's a bloody handsome bloke, he is. I tell you, I wouldn't mind giving him a go!"

The nurses all laugh. They're gathered around The Sun, some sitting, some standing, leering at the tabloid with lusty grins on their faces.

"Excuse me…"

They're all too involved with whatever is in the middle of that bloody tabloid to hear me.

"Do you think it's true that he appears at every government function with a different girl? I would think it would mess with his reputation, wouldn't it?"

"You know how those Americans are. As long as he knows his politics, they'll forgive anything. Besides, with a face and body like that, who cares what his politics are!"

More rounds of loud laughter.

"Uhm…excuse me, but the water cooler needs another refill."

One of them finally looks up. "Oh, sorry, Love." She grins. "We were just having a bit of fun here with this delicious piece of man." She turns the paper over.

There is Edward, grinning widely, wearing a tux. The caption mentions something about some sort of function this past weekend. He's got a beautiful and quite busty blonde hanging from his arm.

"Isn't he the most perfect specimen of a man you've ever seen?" the nurse questions with a rather randy expression on her face.

I stare at the picture, remembering what he looked like moving over me, his perfect body chiseled as stone, muscles flexing with every thrust; his flawless face in rapt concentration, green eyes shining, delicious breaths washing over me, soft, copper hair wet with sweat, velvet voice rough and commanding.

Yes, he was physically perfect.

And while he was busy shagging his busty blond this weekend, my daughter's fever was soaring, making her hallucinate about a man who doesn't exist.

"Oh yes," I snort. "He's a bloody perfect-looking bloke. Now while the lot of you sit here drooling over some git who's probably a bleeding arsehole in person, my daughter is thirsty, so can we please have that cooler refilled?"

I turn and walk away.

OOOOOOOOOO

We're preparing the house for Ellie's sixth birthday. Some of the neighborhood children are coming over including the twin six-year old girls next door with whom Ellie likes to play. She is excited beyond belief.

"Mummy, Mummy!" she cries, running down from her bedroom with my mum, who's just helped her change into the dress she's picked out for today. It's the latest dress I've bought her from Harrods: soft pink, ballerina-style, fashioned with thin straps and a full skirt of floaty, layered tulle. A soft bow and detachable flowers adorn the waist. She looks like an angel.

"I'm all ready for my birthday, Mummy!" she exclaims with a crooked grin when I pick her up in my arms. It's getting harder to do so, but I'll carry her until she's fifty if she'll let me.

"You are? Well, you'll have to wait just a little longer, my love. Everyone should be arriving in about an hour."

She pouts her soft, full pink lips. "But it's so hard to wait, Mummy. I'm not very patient, you know."

She makes me laugh out loud. "I've noticed, Ellie." I can't help tapping those pouty lips. "How about you help mummy with all these balloons, then?"

"Okay," she shrugs happily.

As we finish our decorating, the telly drones on in the background. Alice flips the channel while she takes a break.

"…_the young congressman from New York State was spotted in the City with a young lady sources say may be his new girlfriend, though when the media caught up to him at a job fair he attended in Brooklyn and asked him about her, he was pretty tight-lipped. With a pleasant grin he turned the conversation to the need for more job opportunities in the state, as well as the entire country. Congressman Edward Cullen's popularity continues to skyrocket since elected to the House, and sources tell us they wouldn't be surprised if President Martin's ex-son-in-law made a bid for the White House sometime in the…"_

"Alice, do us a favor and turn off the telly," I hiss through clenched teeth.

She shuts it off straight away.

OOOOOOOOOO

I get off the tube at Liverpool Street Station and make my way through the busy streets of London's business district, as I do almost every weekday morning. When I arrive at 30 St. Mary Axe, I raise my head to the clouded sky before walking in; the strange, round shape of the office building always makes me smile. I suppose that's why it's nicknamed "The Gherkin."

My day begins as usual: meetings, conference calls, reviewing proposals and prospectuses. During my second conference of the day, we're in the glassed-in conference room – the one that overlooks the London's Eye Ferris wheel – and I'm distributing assignments when I hear whistling from just beyond. Two seconds later, Michael pops his head in.

"Isabella," he grins.

"Good afternoon, Michael," I grin back.

"Can you meet me in your office when you're done here?"

"Of course."

As I walk back to my office once the conference is over, I wonder why Michael is here, and why he didn't tell me he was coming. Last I spoke to him a couple of days ago, he was in the U.S. in the middle of some new business dealing he wasn't quite prepared to speak about yet.

I wonder how that went.

Michael is my boss, the owner of the entire corporation – which is based in the U.S.

He's also my friend and occasional lover.

It's a comfortable relationship – one in which I know exactly where I stand. I'm respected for my mind, desired for my body and never have to wonder whether it's anything more or less than that. Michael's eyes are a clear, bright blue; free of non-expression and free of too much expression. He doesn't pretend to feel more than he does; he doesn't ask me for more than I can give.

OOOOOOOOOO

_A couple of years ago, I was standing outside the Gherkin, staring up at it the way I usually do before walking in, when he appeared at my side and simply stood there gazing up with me._

"_Interesting building," he said._

"_Yes, it is."_

"_I own it."_

_I snorted. "Good for you." And then walked in._

_We had lunch. He asked me about my responsibilities in the office, picked my brain for a while. The next day when I arrived at work, he'd left a prospectus on my desk with the request that I prepare a full proposal with recommendations for it by the next morning._

_After that, my responsibilities changed, increased, and the harder I worked the more work he gave me – the more I advanced. No, it wasn't my dream job, and Michael made me work hard for everything I earned. _

_But it was a great job with great opportunities and besides, I'd learned a long time ago that believing in dreams and pretty words got you nowhere._

_One night, he took me out for a nice dinner, and afterwards we went back to his place for a couple of hours…_

OOOOOOOOOO

I walk into my office and Michael is there waiting, gazing out of the windows into the London skyline and whistling to himself; he's always whistling to himself. He turns about and grins, looking brilliantly striking with perfectly slicked back blond hair, expensive dark suit, and bright orange tie – he has a thing for whimsical ties. He walks over and kisses my cheek. Michael is ever-respectful, and I appreciate that about him.

"I wasn't expecting you back in London quite yet."

"I'm glad I was able to surprise you," he grins, blue eyes laughing. "Take a seat, Isabella. I have a business proposition for you."

Michael doesn't beat about the bush. I walk over to my desk and take a seat behind it, smiling as I wait.

"I've just bought ERA Magazine, the entire unit."

I raise a brow. "The European unit here in London too?"

"Yes."

"Congratulations," I grin.

"Thank you. I want you to head up the reorganizations both here and in the U.S."

"What?"

"I know it involves traveling and you're uncomfortable with flying, but there's no better time than the present to get over that."

My heart pounds in my chest.

Ellie. I can't leave her.

Michael doesn't know about her. Not because she's a secret, but because he's never asked, and regardless, I don't want to share her with him. I come to London every day to do my job, to discuss mergers and acquisitions with my co-workers. Nothing more.

"Michael, I appreciate the opportunity, but-"

"Isabella, this is not a request. Please don't try to tell me no, because I don't have time for it. I've got a busy couple of months ahead of me. Our advertising unit needs a new head, I'm still postponing that trip to China until I can secure a meeting with the head of Red Sun Incorporated, I've got to appear in D.C. in the next couple of months to lobby for the environmental unit-"

"D.C.?"

"Washington, D.C. The young congressman from New York State heads up the Environmental Committee, and I'll be lobbying for-"

"Michael…Michael, what exactly would this detail to the U.S. entail?"

He explains to me what he expects from the reorganization of ERA's New York City-based headquarters.

I bite my lip, thinking…

"How long would you expect this U.S. detail to last?"

He shrugs. "That would be up to you, Isabella, up to how quickly you can whip the publication into shape."

I nod slowly. "And the London office too, correct? Which means I'd have to travel back and forth weekly."

He eyes me carefully. "Again, Isabella, I'll leave those details to you. I'm fully confident in the fact that you can take care of this for me. How you do it is your prerogative."

I try to control my breathing, the way my heart races in my chest.

The U.S.

New York.

_Edward_.

Once, I was a naïve, stupid girl, who knew nothing of real life, of politics, of what really made the world go round. He lied to me, made me believe he wanted a real relationship when all he wanted was to play.

Which is fine, I won't blame him for my stupidity. Years have gone by, and I've thought through all the details. Stupid me to believe a man, a soldier on leave no less, could fall in love with me over one weekend. Even stupider that when I found out who he really was – that he had a political legacy resting on his shoulders – I still believed his sweet words.

But all that could have been forgiven - if not completely forgotten - if it wasn't for the fact that I have a daughter now who will _never_ have a father because his legacy was more important than absolutely anything else. I guess to some, the trade may make sense: a child for an entire country, but it doesn't make sense to me. Not when I have to look at her every day and know on what she'll miss out because I had such a wonderful father - and I know Ellie will never experience that.

I've watched his career unfold. He's running for U.S. Senate now. Everything is going according to plan – absolutely no repercussions for the life he created that he'd never take responsibility for.

Once, I was a naïve, stupid girl and bowed down to threats from his father, but as I watch Edward's ascent from afar, one thing has become quite clear.

The Cullens would _never_ create a scandal. If I ever went to Edward with news about him being a father, he'd beg me to keep it to myself and then resign just to avoid the taint to the family name – to the Cullen Legacy, to the future children he will someday bear to carry it on for him.

Ellie has no father. Why should Edward have his legacy?

**A/N: Thoughts? **

**That was the last of the "Then" chapters. We'll be completely in the present from here on in. **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	22. Chapter 22 Connect and Reconnect

**A/N: Alright guys. We're done with the first part of the story, the mistakes and misunderstandings that led to a little girl growing up without her father. Let's see where we go from here.**

**Betad by the girl who's got my back - Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer **

**Chapter 22 - Connect and Reconnect**

* * *

For the fourth evening in a row, Edward has dinner with us. It seems that Ellie isn't the only one completely taken by him; my mum and Alice appear to be enraptured.

Emmett has joined us for the past couple of evenings. I'm relieved because he's very good with taking the tension out of a room; out of a situation. He jokes and teases and Ellie has grown fond of him as well.

It's been a peculiar week. The addition of Edward into our lives has been both seamless and extremely disruptive at once. Ellie takes to him as if he's always been a part of her life, yet I'm still…I suppose you can call it...anxious. Whether through his fault or not, he's only just learning to be a father, a parent. I've taken the week off from work, though I've had a few conference calls from home. I've spoken to Michael quickly, telling him that I've a family situation and therefore need to stay home this week. He's been quite understanding about it. He'll be in London this week, so I've scheduled a meeting with him for Monday morning. I'm going to tell him everything, about Elizabeth, about who her father is. Edward is having his press conference Monday afternoon, U.S. time, which should give me enough time to speak to Michael first. He's been good to me, a good boss and a good friend. I don't want him to be caught by surprise.

I have no idea what this will now mean for the article I wrote for ERA, or for any possibility of my getting the Editor-in-Chief job at ERA London.

Right now though, these are the least of my concerns.

"Emmett, show me how you make those coins appear from behind your ear again!" Ellie begs after dinner.

"Ellie, Darling, it's bedtime," I remind her.

She shakes her head. "But Mummy, I want to see the magic trick again!"

Emmett chuckles. "If you go to bed, I promise I'll show you that and more tomorrow." He kneels in front of her and leans in, whispering, "I may even show you how I pull them out of my nose."

She giggles heartily.

"While that sounds like…loads of fun to watch," I grin Emmett's way, "I'm afraid it _will_ have to wait until tomorrow."

He snickers.

"Say goodnight, Sweetheart," I instruct her. She gives everyone warm hugs, but the way she clings to her father has no equal. Her little arms circle his neck tightly as she presses her cheek against his as if she wants to become one with him.

"Daddy, can _you_ come tuck me in?"

"Of course I can," he grins happily at her.

I sigh and go gather up the dinner dishes.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm scrubbing the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher (I may actually be throwing them in there) while my eyes wander periodically to the ceiling above me. I wonder what in the world is taking them so long. Edward went up forty-five minutes ago to tuck in Ellie.

"Careful, Darling!" My mum chuckles, nudging me out of the way. She coaxes a dish out of my hand before handing me a clean kitchen towel. "You're about to break all me dishes! Why don't you clean the table instead, yeah?"

I quietly acquiesce and wipe down the table, putting everything away in the fridge. Once the last bits are put away, I rest my forehead against the fridge door, hoping its coolness will temper my heat.

I feel my mum's hand on my shoulder. "Bella, Love…" she murmurs tenderly. "It's going to be alright."

"How can you know that, Mum?" I whisper back shakily.

"Because I can _feel_ it, Bella," she whispers emphatically. "_And_ I can see it. My goodness, Love, you can't be blind to the way that man is with that child! He absolutely worships her!" She chuckles.

"He treated me that way for a short while, and still managed to leave."

"But he came back."

I draw in a deep breath and let it out silently. "Yes, he came back. But I won't allow him to play that game with Elizabeth."

She doesn't speak right away. "Bella…I'm going to tell you something that I'm sure you already know. The love we feel for a child, Bella, is…_so_ different, such a different _bond_ to that we can ever feel for someone else."

She lets the meaning of that sink in; in other words, just because _I_ wasn't enough to hold Edward doesn't mean his daughter, his flesh and blood, won't be enough.

"Besides," she snorts, "we have to learn to let go and give people second chances."

"Mum…" I whimper, shaking my head back and forth, pressing it hard against the fridge, "how can I give him a second chance when this is _my_ _daughter_ we're talking about? You're right, it _is_ a different bond, a _stronger_ bond, and if it's no longer my heart I'll be risking, how can I risk _hers?"_

"First, Bella, I know it's hard because you've been doing it for so long, but you're going to have to stop thinking of Ellie as simply _your_ daughter. She's _his_ daughter too, and you _have_ to give him a chance, even a _hand_ at learning to play the role of a parent. It's your duty as Elizabeth's mother. Second…if we don't give people an opportunity to learn from their mistakes, Bella, how can we ever expect them to _redeem_ themselves?"

When I don't respond, she gently takes me by the shoulders and turns me round. Her blue eyes smile softly at me.

"I once knew the best father in the world. He treated you, looked at you and Alice – and even at Rose – the way that man looks and treats Ellie. She is everything to him." She smiles. "You just have to let yourself see it."

I drop my eyes to the floor – and nod.

We stand there for a few moments.

"You know…Rose will be there on Sunday for Ellie's game."

I whip up my head. "Of course I know, she's the coach, but Mum, please don't ask me to give _Rose_ a second chance right now, because I can't even…" – I let out a frustrated sigh – "I can't even get past what she did, what she may have stolen from my daughter. I keep replaying all our conversations…everything I confided in her and…" I shake my head.

"I'm not going to ask you to give Rose a second chance right now, Bella."

"Have you…spoken to her?"

She chuckles. "Of course I have. I practically raised that child. Look, Bella, Rose was wrong. And we can say that her heart was in the right place, but it doesn't change the results, I know that. Nevertheless, she's hurting right now, and she's worried that you won't let her see Elizabeth anymore."

My first instinct is to say that no, she will definitely NOT see Elizabeth anymore.

But Ellie loves Rose. I'm here worried about what losing Edward would do to her now that he's in her life because she already loves him. How can I take someone else that she loves away from her?

I sigh and shake my head. "I won't keep Elizabeth away from her, but she and I…" – I shake my head – "I can't imagine being able to get past this, especially when she doesn't see what she did wrong."

My mum smiles sadly. "Bella, you're my daughter, and you will _always_ come first, but like I said, I helped raise that girl."

"I know, Mum," I assure her. "I won't ask you to abandon her either."

She smiles wider, stroking my cheek. "There, you see? That's called compassion, Bella. Empathy." She places a hand on my chest. "And your heart is full of it. Don't be afraid to hand it out, especially to those who are working hard to prove that they deserve it." She holds my gaze meaningfully.

"What if he lets me down, Mum? What if he lets Ellie down?"

"Then you and Ellie will go on, Bella," she chuckles with a smile. "We Swan women always do."

"Ellie won't be Swan much longer if he has his way," I mutter.

My mum simply laughs. "Oh, if he has his way, neither-"

Just then Edward walks into the kitchen. He looks between my mom and me.

"She's sleeping."

I nod. "What took so long?"

His eyes widen as if he hadn't realized it had taken long at all. "I guess I…I read her a few stories and…"

"You're only supposed to read her one story – two at the most. If you allow it, she'll have you reading to her all night."

He rakes a hand through his hair and nods solemnly. "Alright, now I know for next time."

We hold each other's gazes…

I give him a small, hesitant smile. "I suppose…we'll figure it out."

He grins. "Yes, we will."

OOOOOOOOOO

Saturday morning, we're in the garden in the back. Ellie, Edward, Emmett, Alice and I are helping Ellie practice for her football game tomorrow. Ellie is thrilled that she'll have her "daddy" there for the first time ever. She tells him she's going to introduce him to all her friends. I watch for his reaction to this. He grins proudly.

"…_learn to let go and give people second chances…"_

I bite the inside of my cheek thoughtfully.

"Guys, I'm taking a refreshment break!" I call out and walk off to the small patio table, which has a long bench on either side of it for sitting. Picking up a water bottle, I turn round in the front bench and watch the rest.

Ellie has her game face on. I have never seen such a focused child while playing a game of football. She's already got her pink and black uniform on, her shins protected, her brows furrowed in single-minded focus as she runs down the field, parallel to her father, who has the ball and is kicking it towards the goal. He passes it to her, and she received it eagerly, running, running as Emmett and Alice chase her. She looks up, kicks high - and gets it in the goal past Alice!

"Yes!" Edward roars, raising a fist pump high into the air! Ellie turns about, jumping up and down, and then jumps right into her father's arms.

I can't help smiling, chuckling – finally, laughing. It's such a bittersweet sight to behold. .

"…_learn to let go and give people second chances…"_

I take a few uneven breaths and watch as they're wrapped in each other's arms for a few seconds. Then Ellie picks her head up and turns it towards me.

"Mummy! Mummy, I did it!"

"Yes, Darling. I saw you! You did it!"

OOOOOOOOOO

A few minutes into their next game, Alice has given up and gone back inside. It's just Ellie, Emmett and Edward. When Edward looks up, I can tell he's ready for a break. His face is red with exertion, his hair lies limp over his brow, and his shirt sticks to his chest and abs.

"Elizabeth, I'm going to keep Mommy company for a few minutes. You should take a break soon, too."

"Alright, Daddy," she answers without looking up. She's intensely engrossed in trying to get the ball past Emmett.

Edward approaches me slowly, reaching down to the hem of his sweaty, white t-shirt as he walks. Before I know it he's pulled it over his head and holds it clutched in one hand.

I catch a glimpse of hard pecks and washboard abs before my eyes widen, startled, and I quickly look away, busying myself by picking up a water bottle and removing the cap. I hand it over without actually looking at him.

"Thanks," he smiles – I think.

I nod and smile back, trying to avoid staring, but I can hear him chugging down the water, and my eyes trail back up to him.

It's a warm, sunny day. The sun's rays gleam off of his copper hair. Damp, it sticks to his forehead in places. He wraps his shirt round his neck and pushes his sweaty hair back with one hand – still drinking, looking up towards the blue sky. I'm reminded of the first night we met, when he followed me into Mile End Park. That was at night though, and it was raining; the raindrops fell insistently over him and he pushed his hair back then and it looked much the same as it does now – though now it's longer. It wasn't quite long enough to grab back then, though now…now it slicks back perfectly, a few strands sticking up here and there. His square jaw moves up and down, Adam's apple bobbing while he drinks and drinks and drinks thirstily. My eyes trail lower. His chest gleams with beads of perspiration – a chest still as perfectly lined and defined as it was that weekend, a light trail of blond hair disappears lower still into sweaty shorts that rest casually low over his hips. He rests his weight over one leg, the way he tends to do that makes it seem as if he hasn't a care in the world. He reaches up for his shirt again and uses it to dry off his chest, round and round he goes.

When I look back up at his face, he's finished his water bottle - and is gazing down at me.

Face flaming, I look away, to where my daughter – _our_ daughter – giggles and runs with the ball while Emmett chases after.

Edward slides in next to me, turned away from the table the way I am. I can smell the mixture of soap and sweat as he moves around and gets comfortable…it's the scent of a man who's been very active for the past couple of hours…familiar, that scent is…it takes me a couple of seconds to place it…

When I do, my eyes widen again and I feel my face burn even hotter if that's possible. I glare down at the grass, hiding. I swallow thickly, holding my own water bottle tightly with both hands, clenched between my legs.

"She's very competitive, isn't she?" Edward snorts. "Refuses to lose."

"I wonder from where she gets that?" I smile, looking at him sideways.

He smirks, making me chuckle.

"Personally, _I_ think she gets it from _both_ of us."

"Maybe," I acquiesce after a few seconds. "Do you have everything set for tomorrow night?"

He sighs. "Yes. I'll head for the airport after Elizabeth's game."

I nod slowly.

"You'll be going back to work on Monday?" he asks.

"Yes, at the London office. Michael should be arriving in London sometime tomorrow. I've scheduled a meeting with him for Monday morning."

"Mummy, Daddy, watch me get the ball past Emmett!" Ellie calls out, running as fast as she can from Emmett, ball between her feet while Emmett pretends to chase her as fast as he can.

"We're watching, Love," I call out, grinning.

"A meeting with him for what?"

I turn to Edward with furrowed brows, making sure to keep my eyes on his and avoid…the rest. But bloody hell, his emerald eyes stand out beautifully right now, because of the sun he's gotten today. Ellie's do the same thing.

They appear a bit darker than usual though.

"Pardon?"

"You said you've schedule a meeting with Michael." There's an edge to his voice. "A meeting for what?"

I blink. Kind of hard to concentrate at the moment, but I'm trying my best.

What _did_ I plan that meeting for?

Oh, yes.

"To tell him everything, about Elizabeth and about…your being her father."

He nods slowly, jaw squared, the muscles along his jaw-line taught.

His eyes turn away from me, towards Ellie and Emmett. "Why do you need to set up a meeting to tell him?"

I snort. "Because he's my boss, Edward. I don't want this announcement to take him by surprise. I'd rather it come from me. He's been a good friend and a fair employer."

This time _he_ snorts, and there's a mountain of unspoken words behind the action.

"What?" I snap.

"Nothing," he mutters, mouth barely moving.

Silence.

"So _Michael_ gets special consideration. _Michael_ you respect enough to plan ahead and set up a meeting to _personally_ give him information you think he may deem important."

"Michael has done nothing but _earn_ my respect."

His nostrils flare. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it right away, drawing in a deep breath, letting it out as he leans over, resting his forearms over his legs, every muscle in his stomach clenched tightly.

"There's something more important than _Michael_ that we need to discuss before I leave."

"What is it?" I say in an admittedly clipped tone. I refuse to get distracted.

Edward runs a hand through his hair, staring off in the direction of his daughter.

"I've asked Emmett to stay here, with you and Elizabeth. He's rented an apartment a couple of miles away, and will be available to you and Elizabeth whenever-"

"What?" I cry.

He whips his head to face me again, expression insistent. "Listen to me, Bella. You and I both know that my father must've been keeping tabs on you for the past few years. Emmett and I haven't seen anyone around in the time we've been here, but I don't want to take any chances. Now I'm going to take care of Carlisle when I get back to New York, but in the meantime, Emmett will stay and help keep an eye on you and Elizabeth. I'll be back by the middle of the week-"

"Edward, are you mental? That's simply not necessary!"

He closes his eyes, exhaling through his nostrils. "Bella, I did this all…_wrong_ the first time around. I walked away when I shouldn't have. I waited too long to come back. I…wasn't here for you when you needed me, when Elizabeth needed me." His expression darkens. "I'm not making that mistake again. I won't be able to be here for the next few days because I _have_ to go back to the States. I can't be here every day, but I _will_ be here every moment that I can. For Elizabeth and…" – he sighs. "In between, there's no one I trust more than Emmett to watch over you and Elizabeth."

"Ellie doesn't need a bodyguard to watch over her, Edward! Who she wants now is her _father!_ Is that what you plan to do then, keep Emmett around and let him play the role of-"

"No one, and I mean _no one_ will be playing the role of father in Elizabeth's life other than _me_," he hisses, smacking an open palm into his bare chest. Blimey.

"Do you think I _want_ to leave, Bella, less than one week after finding out about her? Do you think this isn't fucking…killing me?" he growls lowly, dropping his head.

I don't respond, but shame colors my face. _Why_ do I keep doing this?

I sigh deeply. "Look, I don't like the idea of Emmett, of anyone for that matter, shadowing my daughter – _our_ daughter," I correct myself before he can jump down my throat. "I understand you want to keep her safe, believe me I do, but I just don't think it's necessary."

He rests his elbow over his knee and cradles his head in his hands. "Bella…" He picks his head up again. "Bella, it's not just my father. Once I hold the press conference, once this information is out there, the press is going to go crazy for a while. No disrespect to your countrymen, but you _know_ how the British tabloids are – they will be hounding you and Elizabeth."

I close my eyes, exhaling through my nostrils. Once more, he's correct.

"Look, is there any way we can meet in the middle here? Emmett will stay out of sight unless you need him. He'll respect your…privacy. He won't be around where you don't want him. I'm not going to ask him to report on your whereabouts. I simply want to make sure that you and Elizabeth are _safe_, that my father or the press, or any people trying to harass you won't get anywhere near either of you while I'm gone."

I close my eyes and breathe through my frustration. "This is ridiculous."

"Bella, I'll be thousands of miles away. _Please_."

I stick my bottom lip out and let out a long gust of air, looking up at the sky. "I don't want him lurking about. It'll creep out both your daughter and me alike. In case you haven't noticed, she's very perceptive."

He smirks.

"I don't want him hiding. If he's going to be with us, then he will simply be with us, as he's been for the past couple of days. Elizabeth already thinks he's the bee's knees anyway," I admit through twisted lips.

He flashes me a grateful grin and then slowly reaches out for my hand, squeezing it tightly between his, enveloping me in warmth I haven't felt in…a long, long time.

"_Thank_ you."

Before I can get lost in those eyes, or anywhere else for that matter, I blink and look away.

"You're welcome."

OOOOOOOOOO

Rose narrows her eyes, taking us in warily when Edward and I arrive with Ellie at the football field the next morning. I can almost hear her:

"_Bella, don't. Don't fall for it. Don't fall for his lies again."_

I look away from her.

When I look up at Edward, he's glaring at her murderously. Perhaps I should've warned him that Rose is Ellie's football coach.

"Aunty Rose!" Ellie calls out as soon as she sees her, and takes off running. Rose's face lights up, and she bends down, picking Ellie up.

I feel Edward stiffen next to me, and abruptly, he takes one long stride in her direction.

"Edward!" I hiss, pulling him back.

"I just want to speak to her," he says lowly, his voice rough and angry. "I want to know why-"

"Not now, Edward."

He keeps his eyes on her. "Bella, she _has_ to tell me why-"

"Edward, not now. Not during your daughter's football game."

I can feel the tension in his arms, his muscles pulled taught.

"Look, you're coming back, right?"

He whips his head back to me. "Of course I am," he insists. "I'll be on a plane back here by the middle of the week."

"Perhaps the three of us can speak like adults then, and set some things straight."

He doesn't move.

"Edward…" I grip his shoulder, squeeze it reassuringly. "Edward, Ellie loves her, and we don't make scenes in front of our daughter," I murmur.

He closes his eyes. I can see him warring internally with himself and then slowly, his shoulders release their stiffness. He drops them and opens his eyes, nodding once, tersely.

"Fine, Bella. But sooner or later, she's going to have to give me some answers."

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward relaxes once the game begins – well, only for a short while really.

As a new parent, he is unaware that we as parents try to teach our children that it's not so much about whether you win or lose, but rather about how you play the game. I suppose it's one of those things I'll have to give him a hand at understanding.

"Go, Elizabeth! Go!" He cheers her on.

It's a tied game at the moment; the next goal will determine the winner.

Edward and I stand side by side by the sidelines. His face is set in pure concentration – the same look I so often see on Ellie.

Lately…lately I feel as if I can read more from his expression than I used to; it's not all just in his eyes anymore.

My own eyes alternate between watching my daughter – our daughter – out on the field, and watching him watch her. That bittersweet ache is in my chest again when I see his eyes widen and a huge grin light up his face.

"Go, Elizabeth!"

I look over, and our daughter has gotten the ball from one of the other little girls and is running with it. She speeds down the field like a little bullet, kicking the ball with one foot and then the next.

"Go, Elizabeth!"

My heart starts pounding; she's only a few meters away from the net.

I feel a hand wrap around mine, and look down. Edward is gripping me tightly.

The thing is, I'd imagined this scene so many times over the years. I'd look around and see other mum's with their husbands, with their children's dads. The dads would always be more competitive about the game than most mums, and for one split second I'd let myself wish before I'd push the wish away…

Now that the moment is here, I don't know what to do with myself.

I stand stiffly, my hand frozen within Edward's, eyes glued to Ellie.

She kicks the ball, and it flies over the other little girl's heads; we all watch the trajectory and…

…she scores!

"Yes!" Edward roars, lifting our joined hands up in the air.

I've got about half a second to give a good whoop myself before Edward picks me up and wraps me in his arms, holding me flush against him.

I haven't been held by Edward in seven years – not this way, not with every part of my body against his.

There were nights, when I was pregnant with Ellie, that I'd close my eyes and let myself remember what this felt like, remember the all-consuming heat I felt for that one short weekend in his arms; the feeling of safety, of peace, of…love.

My mind tells me I shouldn't respond. I should keep my arms stiff and at my sides. There's no point in this. Regardless of whether he came back six years ago, regardless of the things he's said to me in the past few weeks, regardless of what he followed me to England for, it's been seven years and too many mistakes on both sides in between. Our focus should be Ellie and how we'll get her through this transition - not us. We'll talk eventually, but it can't be about us.

Not us.

But my arms do wrap around him. They wrap around him and hold him the way I haven't let myself dream of holding him in six years – since the day Ellie was born. I bury my head in the crook of his neck and inhale and I'm right back there: in that hotel room, safe, taken care of.

I don't want this.

I do want this.

How long we stand there, I'm not sure. I feel his hands stroking my back, his breath on my neck, and I close my eyes…remembering…

"Mommy, Daddy, we won! We won!"

Ellie's voice snaps me back into the present.

I pull away from Edward and our eyes meet. We hold each other's gaze for about two seconds before he smiles, rather sheepishly and slowly sets me down.

"You did win, Love!" I tell my daughter, kneeling down to her level and pulling her into my arms.

"Daddy, we won!" She pulls away and rushes into his waiting arms.

"I'm so proud of you, Elizabeth," I hear him murmur fiercely into her ear. He pulls her away suddenly and gazes at her through warm, intense eyes. "I will _always_ be proud of you, no matter what. I need you to know that."

She giggles.

He grins and hugs her again.

Rosalie is suddenly behind Edward, who is still kneeling with Ellie. She looks at me.

"I'm taking the team out for ice-cream."

Edward doesn't stand up. He doesn't turn round. "_Our_ daughter will be going out to celebrate with us," he says coolly.

Rosalie shuts her eyes and sighs. "Bella, can you and I please-"

"Rose." I shake my head, "not now" I tell her with my eyes, flashing them down to Ellie and back up.

She draws in a deep breath and nods, plastering a smile on her face.

"Ellie, Love, you did great!"

Ellie grins up happily. "Thanks, Aunty Rose!"

OOOOOOOOOO

After the game, Ellie does drag her father around to a couple of her good friends, exclaiming happily, "This is my daddy! This is my daddy!"

Edward smiles, introduces himself properly to them. Whether they recognize him or not, I can't tell, but they do stare curiously. There's never been a man with Ellie or me at any of her games.

We go into Old Leigh for ice-cream, and walk down the High Street. It's always been like going back in time when we wander about here. In between the centuries-old structures that have been preserved and turned into quaint little shops, outdoor pubs and restaurants, we catch glimpses of the waterfront where our little town once popped up from. The Thames Estuary glitters brightly in the sun. The waterfront breeze is always cool here, a nice contrast to the strong rays shining down on us this late afternoon. We walk slowly, while Ellie skips in front of us, licking her ice-cream.

"You'll miss your flight if you don't get going soon."

"I still have time."

When Ellie wanders a bit further away but still within sight, Edward reaches out for my hand again.

My heart jumps when the tips of his fingers touch the tips of mine. It happened so long ago, that walk through London with him, my hand firmly in his the entire time…yet it's still so familiar…the way my hand fits in his…so warm…so…

I twist and turn my hand and break loose of his hold.

He stops and turns to face me.

"_Bella_…" – there it is, that way he says my name - "I'm leaving tonight, but before I do, I need you to know something."

I drop my head, unable to look in his eyes, knowing the intensity I'll see and knowing how weak I've _always_ been to it. I shake my head. "Edward…"

"Bella, when I got on that plane a few days ago, I had no idea I had a daughter. I came to England for _you_, Bella."

"Edward, you've got a flight to make."

"I know, I know." He reaches down and runs a finger down my cheek. "But when I come back next week…Bella, I want us to talk - to _really_ talk."

I swallow thickly and look up. His green eyes bore deeply into mine.

"We _will_ talk, Edward. We'll talk about everything that happened, and figure out what we need to do to keep Ellie safe and happy throughout this mess. But as for you and me…" - I shake my head again – "...there's just too much that went wrong, too many mistakes on both ends, and I…"

I look down again because I simply can't do this while I'm looking into those eyes.

"We need to focus on _Elizabeth_ now, Edward, not on _us_." I draw in a deep breath. "It's too late…for _us_."

He's quiet for a while, and I think I've made him understand. Somewhere along the way, we lost our chance, and this complicated story is no longer about him and me, but about our daughter.

Ellie is a few meters away, skipping and singing and licking her ice-cream. I begin walking again-

-he pulls me back, gripping my arms tightly.

When I look up at him, his features are set with an intensity that makes me gasp.

"Bella, I gave up once, too god damn easily. I'm _not_ doing that again. I understand if you need time to figure things out, because I do too. If you need time to trust me, to trust yourself, to try to forgive me, I'll give it to you because I need all that too. But whether things get worse, whether they get better, if the entire _world_ blows up around us, I'll be right here this time, Bella. I'm _not_ going anywhere. I'm here for our daughter…_and_ for you."

"Edward, it's too late-"

"It'll be hard, I know that Bella; probably harder than it would've been last time. I know there's a lot we need to discuss and deal with. Things we both need answers to. I'll do it now. I'll do it a month from now, a year from now. But don't tell me that it's too late, Bella. I. Am not. Giving up. Not this time."

"How do you even know you're what I want anymore?" I snort. "_I_ don't even know."

He shuts his eyes and draws in a deep breath, and though I can't see his eyes, I can see the pain and anguish marking his features. When he opens them he releases my arms but wraps his hands round my face.

I close my own eyes instinctively because the heat…Jesus, the _heat_…

"Don't _do_ that. Don't…_hold_ me like that!" I hiss, pushing his hands off, but he puts them up again, cradling my face firmly between his hands, refusing to let go.

"_That's_ how I know," he hisses. "You're hurt; you're confused. I understand, Bella, because so am I. But this time, despite the pain and confusion, I'm going to fight for you. And I'll wait because I know that deep inside you still feel _something_. Whether or not you decide that it's something worth fighting for, I don't know; I can only hope. But I'll be here, waiting; taking care of you the way I should've the first time."

"I don't need to be taken care of, Edward. Not anymore. Besides, you have a _girlfriend_," I hiss. "Don't you see? You're doing the same thing all over again!"

He shakes his head. "No, Bella, I'm not. I broke things off with Irina the same night you came back into my life. Even after you tried to…dismember me," he chuckles humorlessly, "once I saw you…Bella, it was like...I'd been asleep for the past few years, going through the motions, but you woke me up and I knew I _had_ to give it a try. I couldn't let you slip between my fingers again. I don't know why she showed up in D.C., but I reiterated to her that it was over. I'm going to do right by you this time, Bella. I'm doing right by you _and_ our daughter. I'm _not_ playing games anymore. I _swear_ that to you."

I want to doubt him. I want to feel the familiar resentment and distrust that have become second-nature when looking at him over the past seven years. I want to remind myself of how he deceived me, of how the second that the going got rough, he waved the white flag. Of how though his eyes may have burned with fire, the same fire that's burning in them now, he couldn't back up that fire with actions. And his face…his face was an impenetrable, unreadable mask that was ready to lie so easily.

But when he looks at me that way, when he drops his mask so fully, it's so hard to doubt him for a second.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, guys. I was able to get back to some of you last chapter, I'll try to get back to as many of you as I can for this chapter too. :)**

**I may have mentioned this already, but Bluevolvic Socks has created a beautiful playlist to go with this story, chock full of great songs. She's got the links to both the Spotify and Dropbox versions of the file on the 'Stories by Pattyrose' page. (You can find the link to that on my profile page.) **

**The reason I'm mentioning the playlist again is because if I had to pick ONE song that captured this entire story, especially the last part of this chapter, it would be "Far Away," by Nickelback. Love, love, love that song.**

**Thanks again, Blue. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	23. Chapter 23 The Press Release

**A/N: Early update for my lovelies down under!**

**And I just want to say one thing up here: Make sure you meet me at the bottom, okay?**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Ch. 23 – The Press Release**

I don't really think that Emmett will be using that flat he's let in the area much, at least not while Edward is gone, because none of the women in my family allow him to leave the night Edward returns to the U.S. My mum, in typical Renee Swan fashion, appears to have adopted him. Alice, in typical teenage romantic fashion, appears to have developed quite a fancy for him, and Ellie appears to view him as collateral that her father will return to her soon. So when I come downstairs Monday morning and find his huge frame splayed across our small sofa, mouth open and snoring quietly, I can do nothing more than snort to myself. He's going to be around all the time now, I know this; like the family member that came to dinner and never quite left.

I chuckle silently. That's alright. It's how he is with Edward, fiercely loyal, always shadowing him, looking out for his best interests. Now he'll do that for my daughter, and I suppose, in a way, I'm glad Ellie has him here now.

He walks into the kitchen a few minutes later, pushing back his hair and buttoning his shirt over the white tank top he wears underneath. Goodness, between him and Edward, it's like an invasion of muscle and testosterone in this house lately.

"I need some coffee," he growls. Not a morning person it seems.

I hold out a mug for him as I sip from my own.

He smirks down at it when he sees its contents. "Tea. Lovely. Thanks."

I chuckle.

"Everyone else still sleeping?" he asks.

I nod. "Ellie should be the first one up, and then my mum as soon as she hears her. Alice usually sleeps until it's time for her afternoon classes – though knowing you're here may suddenly turn her into a morning person."

He snickers. "Cute kid that Alice, but kinda young for me."

"Yes, I agree," I say with a raised brow.

He laughs. "How 'bout you? Ready for work?"

"Are you?" I retort

He snorts. "For the foreseeable future, my job will consist of teaching a six-year-old little girl magic tricks."

"Oh, it'll get a lot more complicated than that," I assure him. "You just wait."

He laughs again, but it's not as jolly as a second ago. "Bella…I wanted to…not so much apologize for bringing Edward over here last week, but to make sure that you understood why I had to do it."

"I understand, Emmett," I tell him honestly. "You're more than just his bodyguard, and I do get that. I know how important it is to have that one person you can trust."

I sigh and look down.

"Look," I hear him say, "I know you're not exactly happy with this, but I want you to know that you can trust me too - you and Ellie."

"Emmett…" I reach out and place a hand on his forearm, "I want you to know that it's not you that I resent; I'm actually grateful you'll be around for Ellie. It's just…"

"The entire situation. Yeah, I get it too, Bella," he grins.

I grin back. We sip our tea quietly.

"Man, who do I have to kill to get a good, strong cup of coffee around here?"

He makes me laugh.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm already exhausted by the time I make it into the office. Ellie was visibly upset by Edward's departure last night. She was quiet during our bedtime routine, only speaking to ask about her father. I reassured her over and over that he would be back in a few days. I'm trying my best to trust him – at least in relation to our daughter, but there's still that part of me that prays he's not turning me into a liar.

Then he called her from the airplane right before take-off, and she fell asleep with a sweet smile on her face.

I, on the other hand, remained awake almost the entire night.

Praying that Edward will return – for Ellie.

Remembering how it felt to be in his arms again when he held me after Ellie's win.

Recalling the things he said to me afterwards… the conviction shining in his eyes, the feel of his fingers gripping my arms, smoothing down my face…

"_I'll be here waiting…taking care of you the way I should've the first time…I'm not playing games anymore…"_

Worrying about the press conference and what this will mean for Ellie now…

Wishing I still had someone I could talk to, really talk to about all my fears, someone who knew me so well I wouldn't even have to utter aloud the fears and hopes I'm not even willing to admit to myself yet.

OOOOOOOOOO

It's a busy day at work, which is a good thing; it keeps my mind occupied. I took the entire week off last week and now have to make up for it. I spend the first couple of hours catching up, reviewing, taking conference calls and hosting quick meetings. My mind keeps trailing to Edward…

…wondering where he is right now…what he's doing. I look up at the clocks on my wall: one has the local London time: 9:45 a.m., the other has New York City's local time: 4:45 a.m. - a little over ten hours until the press conference he's scheduled for three p.m., New York time.

And fifteen minutes until the meeting I've scheduled with Michael this morning.

My head hurts. I rest my elbow over the desk and drop my head into my hand. When the phone rings, it startles me. My first thought is Edward-

-but the Caller I.D. displays Michael's number.

I stand up as I answer, my heart thumping nervously in my chest.

"Michael, are you ready for our meeting?"

He chuckles. In the background, I hear loud music playing, the quick shifting of gears. "I'm running late, Isabella." His voice is loud as he speaks over the surrounding noise. "I won't be in the office until this afternoon. Do you mind if we reschedule?"

I look up at the clock again. London is five hours ahead of New York, so it really shouldn't be a problem as long as I speak to Michael sometime during today's work day.

"That's fine, Michael. What time this afternoon would you like to meet?"

"Let me see…" – I hear him talking lowly to himself, scheduling and moving things around in his head the way he tends to do – "How's three this afternoon?"

"That should work fine, Michael, thank you."

"No problem, Sweetheart." He pauses. "I've missed you, Isabella."

"I…" – Suddenly, I'm not sure how to respond. "…I'll see you this afternoon, Michael."

He's quiet for a few seconds. "I'll see you later, Isabella."

OOOOOOOOOO

I ring Ellie during my lunch break.

"Mummy, Nanny helped me ring Daddy this morning after I woke up!"

I can't help laughing. Ellie usually wakes around eight, which means she rang Edward at about three this morning his time.

"Ellie, Love, it was still very, very early in the morning where Daddy lives. He was probably sleeping!"

"He was sleeping, Mummy. But he said my phone call would help him sleep even better now! And he said he would ring me back again later when the sun comes out where he lives."

I laugh and laugh. "Oh, Ellie, Love, you're sure giving your Daddy a crash course in parenthood!"

"What does crash course mean, Mummy?"

I chuckle more quietly this time. "It simply means that your Daddy is going to have his hands full from now on."

She laughs in return, though I'm not sure she understands exactly what that means either.

"Mummy, Daddy will be back soon, won't he?"

She wants my reassurance. Yes, she loves her father; she trusts him – but I'm still her mum.

Can I keep giving her that reassurance?

"Your daddy loves you, Ellie. He'll come back to you as soon as he can."

She giggles happily while I pray and pray.

OOOOOOOOOO

Time absolutely flies by. There's so much to catch up on after one week of absence. I'm already in my third meeting of the day in my favorite conference room. It's completely glass-enclosed, and the windows to the outside look out on the London Eye. It turns round and round, the mute London sun glaring weak rays over it, but still breathtaking in its own way. Many Londoners don't like it, call it an eye-sore, and I personally have always been too much of a bloody chicken to ride it, but right now, as the head of the advertisement department gives me his latest report, all I can think about is how Ellie has never shared my fear of tall rides, how much she'd probably enjoy a ride there with her father. Perhaps…perhaps I can get over my own fears long enough to join them…

"The figures are finally creeping up, Isabella," Ian tells me, and though I'm not looking at him, I can hear the pleased smile in his voice.

My mobile vibrates. I look down, and it's Edward's number. I'm in the middle of a meeting though, so I discreetly turn the phone off and remind myself to call him back right after the meeting.

I turn and grin at Ian. "That's great news. Now to keep the momentum going, I think that we should-"

The door to the conference room opens. Michael stands there. When his eyes find me he smiles, but there's something different about it, almost…forced.

"Isabella, do you have a few minutes?"

When I look down at my watch, it's only two fifteen. We still have three quarters of an hour before our scheduled meeting.

I frown. "I was hoping to finish-"

"_Now_, please, Isabella."

My eyes narrow. Michael has never spoken to me that way.

I rise from my seat steadily. "Ladies, Gentlemen, please continue without me. Ian, you can fill me in later."

We walk side by side back to my office. Michael doesn't look at me, doesn't whistle his usual happy tune. Instead, he appears preoccupied and distant.

"What's going on, Michael?" I question once we're back in my office. "Is everything alright?"

He simply stares at me. Sighing, he walks over to my desk and picks up the telly remote, flipping channels.

I turn my head slowly towards the wall where the telly rests, where a pretty, brunette news reporter is now speaking:

"…to repeat our top story, U.S. Congressman Edward Cullen's office has issued a statement this morning announcing that he's just found out that he is father to a six-year old child. According to the statement, the child's mother is Isabella Swan, currently a top executive in Newton Enterprises, the huge conglomerate company with holdings in numerous industries in the U.S. and abroad. Newton Enterprises, owned by CEO and billionaire Michael Newton, recently acquired the struggling ERA Magazine unit, and Isabella has been heading the acquisition. Curiously, she was in the process of writing an article on Mr. Cullen for the cover story of an upcoming issue, and it seems that she may have been planning to use the article to expose the information of the child she had with the Congressman. Ms. Swan has apparently kept the child a secret for the past six years and may have only just decided to reveal the child's existence in an attempt to extort money from the Congressman while threatening to destroy his chances in the upcoming Senatorial race. Here is the Congressman's statement."

A blue screen with white lettering pops up:

"In the past few days, I have discovered that I am father to a six year-old girl. This has come as a great shock to me, as well as to my ex-wife, Tanya Martin-Cullen, her father, President Martin, and the rest of my family – all people whom I respect highly. I want to assure both my family and the American public that this child was conceived before my marriage, and though I am aware that is not a valid excuse, I was never unfaithful to my wife. In addition, had I known of the child, I would have taken all steps to support her both financially and emotionally, as well as willingly accepted all responsibility associated with her care. The child's mother, Ms. Isabella Swan, chose to keep the existence of my daughter to herself until now, and I only found out when I was able to obtain an early copy of the article she planned to publish in ERA Magazine. I can only hazard to guess what her motives were in wanting to expose the information in that manner.

I would like to deeply apologize to my family, my ex-wife, the President and the American public for my indiscretion, as well as to request some time and privacy as I try to build a relationship with my daughter – who is completely innocent in this entire situation."

The pretty brunette pops back up on the screen.

"The Congressman's statement made no mention of the upcoming Senatorial race, though sources close to Mr. Cullen assure us that he has no intention whatsoever of withdrawing his name from the ballot. In recent years, Congressman Cullen has been mentioned as a strong contender for the Presidential race of Two-thousand-"

The telly shuts off, and as I stare at the blackened screen, I can vaguely make out Michael's reflection, remote held high in his hand.

Oh bloody hell.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Breathe people, breathe, okay? I have, at times, been accused of being a cliffy bitch. I swear, I'm NOT trying to earn my name, it was simply necessary to stop here because of the nature of the following chapter. And don't worry, Tuesday is right around the corner. I may even be convinced that Monday is really Tuesday…**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**

**Thanks so much to all of you that continue reading AND reviewing. You have no idea how much I appreciate it and enjoy hearing all your varied thoughts... :)**


	24. Chapter 24 The Press Conference

**A/N: *Comes out of hiding long enough to post, and barely misses rotten tomato thrown to face***

**Before you throw another one my way, meet me at the end, okay?**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Chapter 24 – The Press Conference**

* * *

"Isabella…" – A throat clears – "Isabella."

My eyes have remained glued to the extinguished screen.

I draw in a deep breath and exhale through narrowed lips.

"Michael, I was going to tell you."

"How much of that statement is actually true?"

Finally, I turn round to face him. "I have a daughter-"

"I know that much, Isabella. I'm referring to the rest."

I jerk my head back, shocked. "You knew about my daughter?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't know? After all this time, after how…involved you and I are, after how involved you are in this company, I wouldn't know something like that?"

I close my eyes and snort, shaking my head.

"I'm not going to ask you why you never told me about her. Your private life has always been that - your private life, and I've never wanted to interfere. How much of the rest of that is true?"

I open my eyes and hold his gaze firmly. "Edward…the Congressman…is her father."

His expression doesn't change, doesn't shift in the slightest.

"We met when we were younger, and…it's a long and complicated story, but it's also true that he didn't know of our daughter until a few days ago."

"I haven't had a chance to read the copy of the article you sent me. Is that what was in it? Were you going to expose him as your daughter's father in there?"

"No," I yell. "_That_ is not true, Michael! Take a look at the copy I sent you!"

"Perhaps you sent me something different-"

"No, Michael," I say, my voice shaking. "I would never do that. I would never deceive you that way."

He quirks an eyebrow meaningfully.

I want to cry. I want to run out of this room, board a flight to the U.S. and choke the ever-living shit out of every Cullen I can get my hands on. I should've castrated Edward when I had the chance.

Over my desk, the office phone rings and rings. Michael watches me and waits. I don't move. Whoever it is, it's too late for a warning anyway.

"Michael, I swear to you, I was not going to use the magazine article to expose Edward. I was going to tell him personally, but then he found out on his own and-"

"Is that why you didn't fight me too hard about the U.S. job, because you wanted to get to the Congressman? And why you were so ready to go to D.C. with me?"

I nod, swallowing thickly, unable to deny either query.

He sighs, and then is silent for a long while.

"I guess I should've known there had been something at some point between the both of you," he finally says, "especially after that strange reaction he had to you at that fundraiser a few weeks back and that comical brunch before you started the article. I'm usually pretty good at seeing these things," he muses, "but the Congressman has always been so good at keeping a blank expression…"

I simply stand there while he eyes me speculatively.

"Michael, I'm sorry for all of this, for the…mess I know it's going to create now for the magazine."

"You're sorry about the mess for the magazine?" he questions in an odd tone.

"Yes."

He doesn't say anything, instead just sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet without giving me any indication of what his thoughts are.

"The magazine is just starting to get on its feet again, and this type of publicity will be a blow; I understand that. The possibility that I could've been using it to further my own agenda…it's what the public will believe now, and it will completely ruin the magazine's credibility. It makes no sense to keep me on at this point, does it?" I grin bitterly. "It would destroy the reputation that the magazine has only just started to win back. Advertising and sales will plummet after only just starting an upward climb."

With a deep, long sigh he walks closer to me. When his fingers caress my face, I cringe involuntarily at his touch. That's never happened before.

He narrows his eyes and drops his hand. "Unfortunately, you're correct about all that. The magazine will suffer. Isabella, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do here. I'm at a total loss, and that doesn't happen often. Under normal circumstances, I would've known exactly what had to be done the second I walked in here with you."

For a few minutes, we simply stare at each other.

"You will do exactly what you have to do, Michael, and that's fine. You're a businessman above all, and you know that what I'm saying about the magazine's reputation is true."

"I'm a businessman above all," he repeats quietly. "Is it that simple, Isabella? You've become more than just an employee. Yes, we kept business and our private lives separate, but I'd always hoped you would've trusted me enough someday to tell me about your daughter, though I suppose now that I see what her paternity is I can understand your hesitancy. You _could_ have trusted me though."

He waits again. I'm not sure what he's waiting for me to say.

"I'm sorry, Michael, for everything. You've been good to me; a good employer, a good friend and I wish I could fix this somehow, but all I can think of right now is getting home to my daughter. The press is going to go wild-"

I choke on a furious sob but swallow it back through a painfully dry throat.

"The press is going to go wild now, and I _have_ to be with her," I finish as steadily as possible.

He holds my gaze. "Yes, I suppose that you do. I can understand why that's all you can think of at the moment." Slowly, he lifts his hands my way again, but this time simply grips my shoulders firmly. "This is going to be bad, Isabella. I'm sure you see that. It's obvious with that statement that Cullen isn't playing games." He pauses. "Have you hired a lawyer?"

"I...I'd been holding off on doing so-"

"Don't hold off. Have the company car take you home and go take care of your daughter, Isabella. Then…take some time off. I'll be in touch."

I glare down at the floor and nod.

OOOOOOOOOO

As soon as I emerge from the building's revolving doors, a bright flash startles me. I blink, momentarily dazed.

"Ms. Swan, do you have any comment on the press release issued in the U.S. this morning by Congressman Edward Cullen?"

For two seconds, I simply stand there, staring at the young man with a microphone shoved under my chin, before I rush into the waiting car.

I turn my mobile back on in the car and call my mum.

"Bella, thank God. Have you seen-"

"Yes, Mum, I've seen. Please keep Ellie close and indoors. Where is Emmett?"

"He's with Ellie in the living room. They're doing magic tricks. Don't worry; Ellie has no idea what's occurred. We're keeping the tellies off. Bella…Edward just called. He said he's tried ringing you, that he had nothing to do with that statement this afternoon."

I snort cynically. "Of course he didn't, Mum. Of course he didn't. He never has anything to do with it, does he?"

As soon as I hang up with my mum, my phone displays about a dozen missed calls from Edward, as well as a few text messages.

**Bella, call me as soon as you get this message.**

**Bella, please call me.**

**Bella, I had nothing to do with it.**

I sneer down at my phone while my fury pours out through my thumbs.

**You had nothing to do with it. It was planned for you, just like your engagement to Tanya was planned for you, like your entire life was planned for you while you sat back and LET them do it because at the end of the day, it benefited you. You married her, let them separate us, and now you've let me be fed to the wolves with the excuse that you didn't know. Nothing is EVER your fault because you simply didn't know. Now you get to keep your daughter, your career, and your reputation, and I get to be the lying, manipulative whore who kept your daughter from you and tried to destroy your legacy. Cheers and congratulations. It seems it didn't take much to remind you of your real priorities or to get you back on track once more. **

He rings me again straight away. I ignore it.

**Damn it, Bella! Pick up your phone!**

I type out one more message, the tears crowding my eyes blinding me, but that's alright because they're just two short words:

**Sod off.**

His response appears almost immediately.

**I've moved up the press conference to noon East Coast time. Please watch it.**

OOOOOOOOOO

Emmett is waiting out by the curb when I arrive, arms crossed across his huge chest.

As soon as I emerge from the car, they descend like vultures. Emmett rushes over to me.

"Back away," he commands roughly "Everyone needs to back away!"

"Isabella, is the statement accurate? Were you planning on exposing the truth of your child with Congressman Edward Cullen in the ERA article?"

"Isabella, why did you wait this long to inform the Congressman of the child you have together?"

"Isabella, were you going to extort-"

"Everyone needs to back the hell away!" Emmett roars as he ushers me up the driveway. Once I'm close enough to the front door, he turns around and faces them all.

"Back up! Get off this property NOW, or I'll have all your asses thrown in jail! Back the hell up!"

I turn back and catch a glimpse of them all backing away quickly.

"You all better stay the hell off this property!" he warns them before following me into the house.

"Where's my daughter?" I ask, my entire frame trembling.

"She's in the kitchen with your mom and Alice," Emmett assures me calmly. "They're making cookies."

"You've got to help me keep her inside for the rest of the afternoon."

And then I realize it'll be more than just this afternoon.

I fall over the sofa and drop my face into my hands.

"Hey, don't worry," Emmett murmurs. "I've called a few friends I have in the London area. They'll be here any minute. No one is getting within a hundred feet of the perimeter of this house if I have anything to do with it. And Edward-"

I snap my head up. "I don't want to hear about Edward! I should've known! I should've seen that he'd throw me under the bus to save his career!"

"Damn it, Bella!" Emmett hisses, kneeling in front of me. "I know he hurt you badly! I know about his past sins against you, and believe me, he's had to live with the consequences of his choices, but Jesus," he breathes, "stop and think! Edward would never in a million years say those things! Give the guy the benefit of the doubt here!"

I whip around. "Tell me this doesn't work out perfectly for him! Tell me that statement doesn't spin the story exactly the way he needs it in order to remain on top!"

Emmett doesn't respond. I glare at him and run into the kitchen.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Mummy, you're home! Aunty Alice and Nanny and I are making cookies. And I beat Emmett at football today! After dinner and cookies, I want to go out and practice again!"

My mum gives me an anxious look over Ellie's head.

"That's wonderful, Darling," I smile, kneeling down to her level. She's got Snowy clutched tightly in her hands. "But Ellie, Mummy needs you to stay inside for the rest of the evening, okay?"

"Why, Mummy?"

I look up at my mum and Alice. They both shrug.

"It's just…there might be some strange people hanging about the house later on today."

"Why would strange people hang about our house?"

"Well…you know how you were so happy about your daddy finding you?" She nods. "Well, there are people who are very curious about that, and they may start hanging about asking silly questions."

"People want to ask silly questions about my daddy finding me? Why?"

I hold her innocently curious gaze and feel the tears welling in the corners of my eyes. For the first time in my life, I have no answer for my daughter.

"Cookies are ready!" My mum suddenly calls out loudly. She takes Ellie by the shoulders and turns her about. "Ellie, darling, let's get these cookies out of the oven before they burn and then let's decorate them!"

She follows my mum towards the oven. "Can I decorate one with green frosting for my daddy to surprise him when he comes home? Green is his favorite color."

"Of course you may," my mum answers gently.

"I'm going to change. I'll be right down," I say quickly before I burst into tears in front of my daughter.

I move sluggishly about upstairs in the bedroom I've shared with Ellie since the day she was born. Reaching behind me, I undo the clasp and zip down my dress, letting it fall to the floor and then just leave it there. The blinds are drawn tightly, and I realize my mum must've already been up here closing all the blinds, guarding our privacy as much as will be possible for the foreseeable future. I change into an old pair of denims and a t-shirt and then sit on the edge of the bed.

"_Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…"_

That's what I said to him a few weeks ago in that restaurant in D.C., so it seems I have no one else to blame if I've been fooled again by him.

_If?_

"Come on, Bella, what do you mean 'if'?" I admonish myself aloud.

"_Wait for me, Bella. I'll come back when my tour ends and take you back to the States with me."_

"_What about your dad, Edward?"_

"_I don't care about my dad. _

"_What about the Cullen Legacy?"_

"_We'll get there together."_

I snort to myself.

"…_our families have been friends for decades. Senator Martin is running for President in the next election. Everyone expects him to win; he's a sure bet, you can say. Politically, it's a great move..."_

"_I have __responsibilities __that I can't go back on. This is more than just about myself or about what I may want..."_

"What _do_ you want, Edward?" I ask aloud. "What the hell have you ever really wanted?"

"…_we have to learn to let go and give people second chances…"_

"This was his second chance," I whisper to myself.

But then…

I see him…the way his face lights up with pure, unadulterated joy when he's with Ellie. I see the unguarded Edward of the past week - _my_ Edward - the one I knew that one short weekend.

The way his bottom lip trembled and his eyes glistened when Ellie told him she loved him…

The way his voice sounded when he told her that he loved her too…

_"It'll be hard, I know that Bella; probably harder than it would've been last time…"_

The way he looks at me lately, his expressions so open, so honest…

The way he touches me...the truth shining in his eyes…

"…_if the entire __world __blows up around us, I'll be right here this time, Bella. I'm __not __going anywhere. I'm here for our daughter…__and __for you."_

The mobile in my hand vibrates and I look down at it quickly. It's a text from Michael:

**I'm still your friend, Isabella, no matter what. This guy is one of the best in the business, and you're going to need someone who knows their U.S. laws the best:**

**Garrett Williams, III. Esq.**

**247 Park Avenue South**

**New York, NY 10003**

**212-555-8743**

**Call him and take care, Sweetheart.**

I don't even know how long I stare down at the text in my hands. I wipe away a tear before beginning my message to Edward.

**If you were behind that statement, or if you condoned it in any way, I WILL defend myself. ****But for Ellie's sake, I'll give you the**

"Bella!" Alice suddenly calls out.

My heart drops to my feet. I drop the phone and rush out of my room; the only thing going through my mind is Ellie. Ellie's in trouble. She's left the house and now the reporters are swarming her…

"Ellie!" I yell, rushing down the steps.

Alice is at the bottom of the staircase, eyes wide. "Ellie's in the kitchen with Mum, Bella," she hisses lowly. "Come watch!"

She drags me towards the telly and stops. I walk around her, and the picture becomes visible.

It's Edward.

He's standing before a podium, looking beautiful and well-rested despite the fact that I know his daughter woke him at three a.m. He's dressed impeccably in one of his dark suits, a grey tie round his neck. An American flag rests just to the side of him. On his other side, slightly behind, stands his Aunt Esme. As I'm watching, she reaches out and squeezes his shoulder in what appears to be a gesture of solidarity or something, leaning in to whisper in his ear. He turns a bit and gives her a faint smile, nodding. Voices murmur in the background. Cameras click insistently while their flashes illuminate Edward's serene face.

When he clears his throat, the room goes quiet as his eyes look unwaveringly into the cameras.

"Good afternoon. This morning, a statement was issued, supposedly on my behalf, stating that I am father to a six year-old little girl." He pauses. "That is about the only thing that was true of that statement."

Bewildered murmurs fill the air.

I move in closer to the telly.

"Seven years ago, while on leave from the service, I met and fell deeply in love with a beautiful, wonderful young woman."

The murmurs grow louder. My heart races in my chest.

"At the time, I _was_ dating Tanya Martin, but I selfishly chose not to inform this young woman of that relationship, nor did she have any idea of who I or my family was until I revealed it to her. I kept…quite a bit from her."

He looks down at the podium for a few seconds while questions are thrown his way, but when he looks up again, the entire room goes silent once more.

His mask is gone – and he's fucking furious.

"Isabella Swan was an innocent party in the aftermath of all that occurred. _I_ chose not to give her the entire truth, and when outside forces intervened and I was presented with a choice…I made the wrong one." More bewildered murmurs. "I allowed myself to be convinced that a legacy could be built on lies and betrayals. I will regret that decision for the rest of my life," he hisses. "I have made many mistakes over the past seven years, and I owe many apologies, and they're _all_ to Isabella and our daughter."

"Oh bloody ell," I hear Alice exclaim behind me.

"Nevertheless," Edward continues, his voice sure and strong, "despite all my mistakes, something beautiful and perfect resulted from our relationship: my daughter - our daughter." For one second, he smiles so genuinely that I actually hear murmured "awwws" in the background, but then the smile fades, and he glares at the camera. "But because of more interference from those same outside forces, I am only just beginning to know her. How and when I learned of my daughter's existence is between Isabella and me and no one else, but Isabella was _not_ going to expose the truth of our child in the article she wrote for ERA magazine. I know this for a fact." His voice booms with indignation. "Again, it was those same interfering forces, which released that statement this morning for their own personal agenda," he growls, "to perpetuate a lie and continue to hide truths that can no longer be suppressed. Isabella has been innocent throughout this entire ordeal. She is _not_ looking to destroy my career. In fact, _she_ has been victimized in the name of a legacy, the Cullen Legacy," he sneers, "more than once, and I will not allow it to happen again! I've called this press conference this afternoon to announce that I am withdrawing from the Senatorial race-"

Bewildered cries erupt in the background; furious questions are hurled Edward's way, all which he ignores.

"I _am_ withdrawing from the Senatorial race, not because I am ashamed of my daughter or of loving her mother, but because I have discovered of what a true legacy consists, and it is not the pursuit of power at all costs. It is real family, real honesty and true honor. _That_ is the legacy I want to teach my daughter. _That_ is the kind of man I want to learn to be for her, and a campaign will only interfere with that goal right now." He pauses. "I have much for which to make up, both to my daughter and to her mother for not being there when they needed me. I intend to be there now."

The furious questioning grows louder. Edward's strong voice rises above the bedlam surrounding him. Once more, Esme leans forward and squeezes his shoulder.

"The meaning of family has long been a twisted and foreign concept to me, but with the help of my daughter, her mother, her family, my Aunt, Esme Platt and my cousin, Jasper, I hope to rediscover the real meaning of a family once again. So, I stand before you this afternoon and make a plea not from a Congressman, but from a father. I ask that you please give my daughter and I time to become the family we were meant to be. Give us space to get to know each other. It has never been my belief that one person's private matters should overshadow those issues which affect us as a country or as a global community. There are so many urgent issues facing all of us who inhabit this planet as one at the moment, and I truly hope that we can continue to focus on ways to find resolutions to those."

He glances down again, and when he looks up, his eyes are burning.

"Yet, I will not allow an innocent woman's reputation to be besmirched with slander and half-truths perpetuated by forces which believe that they have a stake in our lives. I _want_ to keep our matters private, but to those who will continue their interference, I stand before you to let you know in front of the entire American public that I have taken steps to secure the future safety and privacy of Isabella and my daughter and that I will take more steps, all and any necessary, to ensure that my daughter and her mother live the safe, private and prosperous lives that they deserve. I underestimated those forces in the past and their blind desire to perpetuate a legacy at all costs, but I will _not_ underestimate them, or stand for their interference any longer. Thank you."

Questions explode maddeningly, but Edward walks off steadily and confidently, without so much as a glance backwards.

"Oh my God, Bella," Alice says after a few seconds, while the picture switches back to a CNN newsroom and reporters scrambling to explain to the public what has just occurred - while I stand there frozen, unable to look away from the telly.

"Oh my God," she breathes again, over and over. "He declared his love for you in front of the entire world and defended you from those bloody attacks and…and…Oh. My. God. That's so romantic!"

I turn to Alice and cock my head sideways. She nineteen. I remember being nineteen, only seeing the romance in a situation: a midnight walk along a park, a swanky suite in the middle of London, making love for hours upon hours. I didn't stop to think of the consequences, of the implications of all that was occurring.

But I see the implications of what has just occurred. While Alice focuses on the romance, I wonder how long it'll take her to actually understand what Edward has truly just done, what he's implied, not only the apology he's given…but the one he's taken away…

The phone rings.

We both stare at each other wide-eyed. After about four rings, I snap out of my frozen state and lunge for it.

"Bella?"

"Edward," I breathe. "Edward…"

I'm drained from the moment, from the day, from the past few weeks and completely unable to hold back the tears that start falling.

"Shh," he comforts me. "Don't cry, baby. Don't cry."

Which is a stupid thing for him to say because it just makes me cry all the more. Out of my periphery, I see Alice leave the room, heading quietly into the kitchen.

The enormity of what he's just said on that telly, what he's done, hits me. I see his face in my mind as he gazes at our daughter, the regret marking his features when we were back in the U.S….what he's done for Ellie…and for me…the wrath he's brought on himself…what he's given up for a child he's only just met because…he's only just met because…

"I'm sorry, Edward," I cry. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh, shh," he continues comforting me while words I can't even understand myself pour out of me: garbled apologies where I try to explain how fear turned into anger over and over again, but I'm failing miserably.

"Shhh. I'm so sorry too, Bella, for everything. God, I need to be there with you right now. I need to…look, I _have_ to tie up some loose ends tonight, but I'll be on the first plane out in the morning. I swear it."

It hits me suddenly - so suddenly that I gasp sharply and reel back.

"_I'll be here…taking care of you…the way I should've the first time…"_

"_I'm not playing games anymore…"_

The tears fall harder.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Bella. I'll be there as soon as I can."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Tsk. Tsk. Oh ye of little faith. Let's take a minute and think about what Edward has just done, shall we? Either way you want to look at it, Team Edward or not, there are SO many implications to that press conference… :)**

**Anyway, EPOV coming next. I think we need one, and I hope most of you enjoy it. :)**

******And yes, I like lots of drama. Every single one of my stories has drama plentiful. I'm pretty sure every single story I ever write will have drama. I warn everyone in the beginning of my stories so that they can know what they're getting into. My characters will always have to work for their HEAs if they get one, and THAT is what makes my stories long. So please don't hide behind "Guest" reviews when you have something nasty to say, so that I don't have to expose the rest of my lovely readers to things I'd rather say in private. I can go on and on about nasty reviews and how this isn't mandatory reading, but I'll stop here. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	25. Chapter 25 - The Informant

**A/N: The next two chapters are EPOV of what was going on in NY. I think we need it. **

**Beta'd (and re-betad) by my girl, Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Ch. 25 – The Informant**

* * *

**EPOV**

My eyes focus in and out, in and out as I stare through the gauzy, grey-black clouds. The jet blows right through them, parting them like an insubstantial, weightless ocean. The pressure bearing down on my stomach is the only indication of our increasing altitude as we fly further and further away from the European continent, from the British island that's become invisible through these dark clouds, further away from the only things that truly matter now.

It's strange, but the more space the jet puts between us and England, the more that the past week feels like a strange dream. For a second, I actually find myself wondering if I'm still in Kandahar, if I've been blown sky-high by another IED that's gifted me with yet another vision.

But in that same second, I realize that it can't be a vision because if I were to make up a scenario in my head where Bella and I had a child, that child would still be inside Bella. I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't make up a scenario where I've lost six years with her, where Bella looks at me with so much open distrust and hostility.

God, it's enough to drive anyone fucking crazy, trying to figure out how we got here, how the woman I've spent the last seven years longing for doesn't trust me for shit. Between the lies I told and the ones apparently told on my behalf, can't really blame her though, can I?

I throw my head back against the headrest, shutting my eyes tight and pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Jesus Christ."

But…we have a daughter.

Despite everything, I feel the corners of my mouth lift up. Despite the fact that the way Bella looks at me is like a dagger through the heart, I have a daughter. _We_ have a daughter.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth London Swan.

"Did you name her after my mother?"

It was the last thing I asked Bella, standing just outside of her house after we'd returned from the quaint little town of Old Leigh, having celebratory ice-cream with our daughter.

She looked away from me and nodded slowly. "I wanted her to have…something of you - something of her own legacy."

Her answer made my chest ache.

"And London?"

Bella sighed. "It's where she was created." She turned and met my gaze. "Where you and I made her."

Elizabeth - a glittering diamond in the middle of a pile of chaos, the truth above a mountain of lies. She's worth everything that's come - that's yet to come. Because I'm not stupid enough not to know that there's still loads of shit to come.

I sigh deeply and close the small window that only reflects total black now, and recline the seat all the way.

There is still so much left unsaid between Bella and me. She hasn't told me what exactly my father said to her on the phone; she holds so much of herself back. I see the way she looks at me when I'm with Elizabeth, eyes full of terror despite the smiles she tries to hide behind for our daughter's sake. She doesn't trust me, and though the man that knows that I have so much to make up for understands that she needs time, the man that knows that I will never hurt her or our daughter again simply wants her to drop the armor once and for all, let me in or put me out of my misery, one way or the other. Because when her armor is down, when she's completely absorbed in our daughter, when she thinks I'm not paying attention…that's when I see _her:_ the Bella I met in that pub seven years ago, not the one tainted and hardened by lies and betrayals. God, I need that Bella back. Yet I know I've got a hell of a lot of work ahead of me if I ever want to see her again – if there's any chance of that Bella ever coming back to me.

She's worth it, so I'll show her that as much as she's not the girl she used to be, I'm not the man I once was.

I pray that it's enough because as I told her, as I _promised_ her, this time, I'm _not_ giving up.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm already sweating as soon as I step out of the terminal. My shirt sticks to my ribs. Beads of moisture accumulate at the nape of my neck. The damned New York summer feels even more suffocating than usual. I think of the cool breezes of Leigh-on-Sea, the much more forgiving English sun. I already miss it.

Or maybe it's not so much the English sun that I'm missing already. While the black town car that's come to pick me up weaves in and out of traffic on the heavily congested Belt Parkway, I think of Elizabeth and Bella, the constant smiles and laughter from one and the hesitant occasional ones from the other; they're who've kept me warm this past week, not the sun.

I let the breeze pouring in through the windows cool me down, ease my turbulent mind. Even at this time of night, the city teams with action: yellow cabs honking horns, loud music blares from passing cars, streets full of people strolling around on a warm, summer night.

While we speed along the Northern Parkway, I sit up and call my father again.

No answer. I hang up when I get his voice mail.

"_Your responsibility, Edward, is to this country! Not to some scorned woman who just wants to destroy you with a child that may or may not even be yours!"_

It looks like it's his turn to avoid my phone calls. But he can't avoid me forever.

I call Kate next.

"Edward, how was your time off?"

"Good, thanks. I just want to make sure we're all set up for the press conference tomorrow afternoon."

"Everything is ready, Edward."

"Great. You've kept this info close, right?"

"It won't be announced until noon tomorrow."

"Okay. And how are things going with locating my father? I need to know where he is before tomorrow's press conference."

"I'm trying my best, Edward, but his office isn't returning my calls either. I did check though, and as far as we can tell, he has no press releases of his own scheduled."

I sigh in frustration. At least that's something. I wouldn't put it past him to schedule something with the press. He may know me well enough to guess what I'm planning. That's why I want to speak to him before my press conference and warn him not to interfere. I've got a few incentives for him too, like the fact that he probably wouldn't want the public to know all about the shady dealings that have gone on over the years between him and Jay Jenks.

"Find out where he is as soon as possible, please. In the meantime, you've asked all staff members to be in my office at nine tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, Edward. As you instructed, I've told them all that you have an announcement you want to make."

I rake a hand down my face. "Look…Kate, I want to thank you for taking care of all this for me this week. With Jasper no longer on the team-"

"Edward…" – she hesitates – "I know you said you'd explain everything tomorrow morning, but we've all been in the dark here all week. And it's been a crazy week."

"I appreciate your hard work this week, Kate. I really do."

She's silent, as if she's waiting for more, but I'm not giving any more info right now.

"Alright, Edward," she finally says. "We'll see you tomorrow."

When we hang up, I try my father once more. This time I leave a message.

"I think it would be beneficial for the both of us if we spoke as soon as possible. Call me back."

OOOOOOOOOO

The long, circular driveway is empty save for Aunt Esme's silver Volvo and my Audi. I never thought I'd be disappointed to not find my father's Mercedes in the driveway.

He's not here either, then.

With a frustrated sigh, I drop my bag by the door and walk through the foyer to the back windows facing the small beach behind the house. The midnight sky glows dark blue while the full moon illuminates the Long Island Sound and the sandy beach by the shore.

Elizabeth loves the beach.

Everything reminds me of her now that I know she exists. I look around my surroundings at the house I grew up in, the house where my mother – the other Elizabeth – tried to teach me so much in the short decade we had together. I wish I would've learned more from her.

"_Mummy, is that the house you told me about? That you said was so pretty?"_

I snort quietly to myself. She was carrying on conversations with my daughter about my house – about our house - right under my nose and I never even knew it. Because yes, this is my daughter's house now. It's what her grandmother would've wanted.

Yet there's still so much I need to do to give my daughter all that's rightfully hers.

"Edward?"

I turn around and see Aunt Esme a few feet away. She's wrapped in a dark robe, looking tired. She manages a hesitant smile.

For once, I don't immediately go to her. "I'm sorry, Aunt Esme, I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's fine, honey, I'd just gotten to sleep. I heard the car and…" She walks over to me, arms outstretched, and that's all the invitation I need. I take two strides to meet her.

"Aunt Esme-"

She pulls away and smiles tenderly. "I know Jasper and you had…some sort of problem. I know he's not working for you anymore."

"Aunt Esme, I'm sorry, but-"

"Listen to me," she says more firmly, "Jasper didn't tell me what happened, and I didn't ask. You're both grown men and that's between the both of you. Jasper did say that he made a mistake, and that he understands your position. I just…wanted you to know that."

I nod once.

"I want to make sure you know, Edward, that you haven't forgotten that you're like a son to me, that I love both Jasper _and_ you, and though I won't take sides, I do hope you can both eventually mend whatever the problem is."

"I hope so too, Aunt Esme," I murmur sincerely, "but the repercussions of Jasper's mistake have had far reaching consequences and…" – I exhale deeply and run a hand through my hair. Aunt Esme holds my gaze curiously. I pull away from her and turn around, trying to gather my thoughts, to figure out where to begin.

"Aunt Esme, do you have any idea where my father is?"

"No, honey, he left the house last week right after you did. I haven't heard from him since. Why, Edward? Look, I know something went on here last week. Everything seemed to be fine and then the next thing I knew, the journalist was gone, you were gone, and your father was gone."

"There's…" – I snort – "a lot I need to tell you. I don't even know where to start," I murmur.

When I turn around again, she's got her head cocked sideways, waiting.

I grin. "Actually, I do know." I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone. Scrolling through the hundreds and hundreds of pictures I've taken in the past week, I finally find the right one.

With another grin, I hand the phone over to my aunt.

She furrows her brows, giving me an unsure smile. "Edward, where in the world did you get this picture of your m-"

She cuts herself off and studies the picture.

"This isn't Elizabeth."

"It _is_ Elizabeth," I correct quietly while we both gaze at the picture. "That _is_ her name. But it's not my mom."

For what feels like hours, she simply gazes at the picture. "She's yours," she finally whispers.

"Yes," I confirm. "She's my daughter - Elizabeth."

Her head whips up, eyes bewildered. "But…but how…?"

I grin.

An embarrassed smile breaks out across her face. "I don't mean how, you know what I mean! Oh my God. Oh my God!" The smile fades but her eyes sparkle. "Oh my God, Edward, you have a little girl!"

"I do," I say, voice unsteady. "I have a little girl."

She lets out a high-pitched yell and throws her arms around me, holding me so tight my lungs constrict.

But it's all good. I picture it as the kind of hug I would've gotten from my mom if she would've been around, the kind of hug she might have given me after I emerged from the hospital room, where I'd spent hours and hours with Bella helping her push our daughter into the world.

I swallow thickly and close my eyes, imagining…

She pulls away enough to hold my gaze. "Your daughter's mom…it's Isabella, isn't it?"

I nod slowly.

"I knew it," she whispers mostly to herself. "The way you both looked at each other when you thought no one was watching, as if you'd lost each other a lifetime ago and had no idea how to find your way back."

I snort and turn away from her, walking towards the windows once more. "Yes, well…that's part of a long, complicated story."

I feel her hand on my shoulder. "I'm here to listen, if you want to tell me."

For the next couple of hours, I tell her absolutely everything.

It's almost three in the morning by the time I finally lay my head on my pillow. The balcony doors are open and the sound of the water lapping against the dock rings quietly in my ears. The warm breeze tickles my cheeks. I can't sleep – change of time zone; so many things on my mind.

When Tanya and I first married, she enjoyed spending as much time as possible in this house. Once the house officially became mine, she completely redid the old bedroom my parents used to share when they were married, when my mother was alive. All my mother's possessions, the furniture she'd picked out for her bedroom, were all relegated to the attic.

At the time, I couldn't have cared less. It didn't matter what the bedroom looked like. I couldn't give two shits what any of the house looked like.

When we divorced, I could've had her by the fucking balls. But she knew me well, I suppose, at least the version I was back then. I wouldn't release those pictures to the public; not for her sake or her father's, or for the sake of my name, but because I wouldn't do that to the American people, distract them from the real issues at hand by airing our dirty laundry.

I could've had her by the balls - but I simply wanted out of a situation I should've never allowed in the first place.

Forty percent of the house, she said. I'd still maintain control, final word. She loved this house. The political history, the wealth, the position.

Forty percent, and we can part amiably, no scenes, no airing of dirty laundry. Just forty percent and she'd sign the papers quietly.

I wanted out. This house meant nothing anymore. My mother was gone and…and I'd never have a family to fill it with anyway. What value was an empty house to me?

NOw, I want my house back – my _daughter's_ house back.

My cell phone rings over the night stand. I check the caller ID – Isabella Swan. For two seconds I'm filled with anxiety, but when a sweet, tiny voice speaks, a wide grin spreads across my face.

"Daddy!"

"Elizabeth," I breathe, and I can swear my entire body melts from the simple joy in her voice. "Is everything okay, Elizabeth?" It's three in the morning here, which means it's eight a.m. over there.

"I miss you, Daddy! When are you coming back to me?"

I close my eyes, reveling in the sound of her voice, in that sweet English accent of hers.

"I miss you too, Elizabeth, so much. I'm coming back just as soon as I can, my little love. Wednesday, if all goes well."

"Wednesday," I hear her repeat to herself. In the background, she talks to someone. "But that's two days away, Daddy!" she complains.

I chuckle despite the anxiousness in her voice and in my chest. "I wish I could come back sooner, baby, I really do."

"I asked Mummy last night when she tucked me in if I could come to New York with you" – I smile at the way she says New York: 'Nu Yoke' – "and she said maybe someday. I want to see your pretty house."

"It's _our_ pretty house, Elizabeth. And as soon as we can get everything sorted out, I'll bring you home, at least for a little while. I promise."

"Yay! Can Mummy come too, Daddy? I'd be scared to go to New York without Mummy. It's so very far away."

"Of course Mommy can come."

My daughter and I talk for another ten minutes, and I promise her I'll call her later today, when I'm up and out of bed. She asks me why I'm still in bed and I explain the time difference to her once more.

Renee gets on the phone after Elizabeth and I are done.

"Ellie, run along and brush your teeth, Love," I hear her say before addressing me. "Edward, I warned her you'd probably be sleeping but you've seen how your daughter is, as obstinate as her mother at times. But don't tell Bella I said that." She chuckles.

I suppose that this is where my daughter gets her openness from; from her maternal grandmother who says exactly what she's thinking. And I appreciate that about her.

"Don't worry, I won't. Thank you, Renee, for everything this past week. For…" I sigh and run a hand through my hair – "for accepting me into your family so openly despite…"

"You're Elizabeth's father," she says matter-of-factly. "I'm simply giving you the benefit of the doubt. Edward, I know my daughter. She must've seen some good in you when you two first met." She's teasing me.

"Thank you," I repeat gratefully.

"You're welcome. Just don't break their hearts, Love, or it'll be me you'll be answering to this time."

I snort and shake my head. "I won't, Renee."

"Alright, then." I can hear the smile in her voice.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm not sure what time it is when I finally get to sleep, but somewhere, deep into dreams of soft giggles and warm smiles I hear a steady, even rhythm that stops and starts. Stops and starts. Stops and…

I open my eyes. My phone once again vibrates over my nightstand. I look at the clock – barely five a.m. – before reaching for it anxiously. I'm surprised to see Jasper's name illuminated on the screen.

"Jasper," I say groggily.

"Edward, where are you?"

"In Long Island." I yawn. "I just got in late last night."

"Thank God," he mutters. "I'm in the City. I'll be there in forty-five minutes. I've got something important to talk to you about."

I draw in a deep breath. "Alright. I'll wait for you downstairs."

When he arrives, we walk straight into my office. I lean against the desk.

"What's going on?"

Jasper watches me warily. "Look, I fucked up. I know I did."

I exhale. "Jasper, I know there was no malice involved, but try to see it from my perspective. Had I known of that phone call-"

He cuts me off. "I know, Edward. I know. And I feel like shit about it." He sighs, holding my gaze. "When was the last time you spoke to your father?"

"A few days ago. I've been trying to get a hold of him, but…why, Jasper?" I ask warily.

He reaches into his jacket and throws something across my desk. When I look, it's a picture of Elizabeth and me at her soccer game just yesterday. It's actually a copy of a picture.

"Son-of-a-bitch," I hiss, picking the picture up. "Where'd you get that?"

His nostrils flare. "I've got a friend, Maria Santos, working on your father's staff. She's never been too…fond of your dad. We got to talking last night and…"

"How much does she know?" I ask quickly, while at the same time trying to figure out what, if anything, my father can do with this picture, with any of what's occurred in Leigh and London this week. I'm holding a press conference in a few hours to announce Elizabeth's existence after all. What game plan can he possibly have at this point?

_He can have a game plan_, my mind warns me. He can definitely have a game plan.

"She doesn't know much. She's just an assistant, but she was dropping off a file in his office yesterday evening and happened to come across this picture. Like I said, she and I are good friends, and she called me." He shrugs.

Two minutes later, we've got Maria on the conference line.

"Maria, it's Jasper. Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, Jasper. You can wake me whenever you want." I clearly hear the suggestion in her tone.

Jasper rolls his eyes uncomfortably while I snort. He clears his throat. "I've got my cousin, Edward, the Congressman here with me. You're on speaker."

"Oh! Uhm…okay."

I smirk at Jasper.

"Maria, would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?"

"Uhm…sure, Congressman. But I don't want to get in trouble."

"You won't get in any trouble, I promise you that. My father isn't someone you'll want to be working for in the near future, anyway, and if something happens to your job, I'll put in a good word for you elsewhere."

"Uhm…okay."

"Thank you. How much do you know of that picture you gave Jasper last night?"

"Not much, Congressman, just what I told Jasper. It was on your father's desk. The only reason I even noticed it was because it was half sticking out of a file, and…and your hair and the little girl's hair caught my attention. I reached for the picture just out of curiosity, I swear, and then when I saw…I just made a copy quickly to give to Jasper so he could talk to you about it, Congressman. I didn't even go through the rest of the file because I was scared Mr. Cullen would walk in and catch me."

I shut my eyes tight and bang the desk. "Damn it."

"I won't say anything about the picture to anyone, Congressman Cullen, I promise," Maria says quickly.

"That's the least of my concerns right now, Maria. Is there anything else you can tell me about that file?"

She's silent again, making a low humming noise as if she's thinking.

"I mean, there was one thing. I don't know if it means anything, but there were two letters on the file tab: JJ."

"Jay Jenks," I mouth. Jasper nods his agreement.

"I don't want to get in trouble," Maria repeats again.

"Maria, no matter what happens in the next few days, my office and I will look out for you," I assure her.

"Alright, Congressman. I trust you a lot more than I trust your father I guess."

"Thanks."

Jasper and I stand around silently after we hang up.

"I was going to take care of them this morning," I sneer. "Jenks and my father. I planned to let them know that I have proof of their involvement in covering up my daughter's existence and would expose it to the press if my father didn't back off. That's a scandal my father wouldn't want."

"I think that's a good idea."

I stare at him, thinking…

"I feel like I'm missing something here," I admit.

"Like what?"

"Like what the hell is he planning to do with this?" I finally ask aloud, holding up the picture.

"I don't know. Did you know that he and your dad were keeping tabs on your daughter?"

"I suspected. But Emmett and I have been keeping tabs on Jenks."

"Maybe your dad figured out that you'd be keeping tabs on Jenks, and they've got someone else involved."

"Yeah, you're probably right," I breathe out in frustration, running a hand through my hair. "Jesus, how far will he go with this?"

"I have no idea, but I get the feeling you'd better figure it out quickly."

"Yeah," I snort, "I get the same feeling." I look over at Jasper again. "Look, thanks a lot for this. I know we didn't part on the best of terms."

"Hey, you and I are like brothers, no matter what. I don't have a kid, but…just thinking that if I did, and someone had done anything that kept me from knowing her, even accidentally…I understand, Edward. Honestly, I just wanted to make up for it, even if in a small way."

"Listen, I'm holding a press conference later today, to let them all know about my daughter. I'd appreciate it you were there. I mean, Kate's acting as Chief-of-Staff right now, and I've got too many things on my mind to make a decision on that one way or-"

"Edward," he puts a hand on my shoulder, "I'll be there, as your family."

"Thanks."

OOOOOOOOOO

It's seven a.m. when we call Kate.

"Are we waking you?" I ask.

"No, I'm already up. Edward, I made phone calls until early this morning, trying to find your dad, but it's like he's hiding or something."

I'm starting to feel really anxious here. "Kate, are you sure you've kept the press conference under wraps?"

"Yes, Edward."

"And you're sure he has no conferences of his own scheduled?"

"Look, let me double check again. I'll get back to you shortly."

She calls back forty-five minutes later.

"I've double-checked with all the news outlets. He has no press time booked. I've confirmed it."

I sigh uneasily. "Alright, thanks Kate. I'll see you all at nine a.m. at my office."

OOOOOOOOOO

It doesn't occur to me until we're in the car, fifteen minutes into our drive, weaving in and out of traffic on a congested Belt Parkway and listening to the morning's news shows. I mean, he wouldn't stoop that low, would he? He's lied to me, about that phone call, about my wife's cheating, he's been spying on Bella, my daughter, and me, but he wouldn't disregard the law that flagrantly, risk actual jail time by putting out a falsified statement on a congressman's behalf.

Would he?

It's ten to eight when I call Kate again.

"Kate, did you double check exactly what air time we've got booked?"

"What?"

I grip my hair. "Give me the contact names. I've got to call-"

"_The following statement has just been released this morning from Congress Edward Cullen's office, Representative from New York:"_

_"In the past few days, I have discovered that I am father to a six year-old girl. This has come as a great shock to me, as well as to my ex-wife, Tanya Martin-Cullen, her father, President Martin, and the rest of my family – all people whom I respect highly."_

"Fuck!" I growl.

"_I want to assure both my family and the American public that this child was conceived before my marriage, and though I am aware that is not a valid excuse, I was never unfaithful to my wife. In addition, had I known of the child, I would have taken all steps to support her both financially and emotionally, as well as willingly accepted all responsibility associated with her care. The child's mother, Ms. Isabella Swan, chose to keep the existence of my daughter to herself until now, and I only found out when I was able to obtain an early copy of the article she planned to publish in ERA Magazine. I can only hazard to guess what her motives were in wanting to expose the information in that manner._

"Oh fuck," I breathe_._

"_I would like to deeply apologize to my family, my ex-wife, the President and the American public for my indiscretion, as well as to request some time and privacy as I try to build a relationship with my daughter – who is completely innocent in this entire situation."_

"Well, that's definitely a shocker," the radio announcer says. "I don't think anyone was expecting that. Let's go to our correspondent in-"

"Oh God, Edward," Kate breathes. Jasper is silent.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," she repeats. "Alright, it doesn't sound too bad. I think we can work with it."

"Kate!" I howl. "Find out how the fuck this happened and move the press conference up to as early as possible!"

"But, Edward, it'll be impossible to move the-"

"NOW, KATE!"

Heart pounding I dial Bella's number. She doesn't pick up. I try about a half dozen more times but it goes straight to voice mail.

"FUCK!"

We're on the Brooklyn Bridge now with the sun glistening over the Hudson, shining off of the various silver and grey skyscrapers ahead, but the entire landscape before me is colored in a deep shade of crimson as I skip the West Side Highway exit that would've taken us to my uptown office and instead make a screeching turn into the Cadman Plaza exit. The choke hold I've got around the steering wheel burns my palms. The tips of my fingers tingle.

"Edward, where are we going?" Jasper asks, gripping his seat.

"To my father's office."

"But he hasn't been there."

"He'll be there this morning," I sneer. "He's accomplished his mission. He'll be there."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Question: Now, THAT isn't considered a cliffie, right? Right?**

**Do we have to have a Monday update again? :)**

**A WONDERFUL Memorial Day weekend to all my fellow Americans, and just a WONDERFUL weekend overall to all my other lovelies! As for me, Mr. PattyRosa and I will be celebrating our anniversary this weekend at the Jersey Shore!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	26. Chapter 26 - Viva La Vida

**A/N: I meant to post this earlier, but I had a looong weekend and was knocked out! Sorry!**

**I'm truly grateful for the response you guys have had to this story. I LOVE reading all your thoughts. I'm blown away by all the theories. :)**

**Betad by my beta queen Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

**Chapter 26 - Viva La Vida**

* * *

**EPOV**

Fifteen minutes later I pull the Audi up in front of the great Carlisle Cullen's office. His assistant looks up, startled, as Jasper and I rush past her desk.

"Congressman, you can't go in there! Your father has asked not to be disturbed! Congressman!"

He's typing away on his laptop as we walk in and barely looks up before returning his gaze to the screen before him. Dressed in one of his power suits, one of the ones I know he usually reserves for days when he expects to be in the media's eye, with a red tie knotted perfectly around his neck and hair recently cropped short, every shiny strand in place, it's apparent that he has big plans for today.

So while he sits straight as an arrow, no remorse or apprehension for the blatant lie, for the slanderous garbage he's just released marking his features, I try to gather some semblance of control. But fury pounds wildly in my veins; the pressure of it throbs painfully between my temples. My jaw clenches tight, teeth grind against teeth. Hands instinctively curl into fists at my sides while his face remains stoic and unreadable, but I know him well - too well now. I know the single-minded madness that runs through his head. I've underestimated it.

No more.

"I did you a favor," he claims calmly without looking up, still typing away. "Stop and think about it and you'll see it clearly. You wanted your daughter, you've got her. The public will now easily accept the entire situation. You knew nothing; it's the truth and they can investigate it all they want. You knew nothing. Now that you do know, you're taking responsibility. No one can fault you for that. If anything, it's humanized you even further and shown how capable you are of taking charge when a situation is thrown at you from left field, when someone tries to undermine you, and it shows how you will always accept your responsibilities-"

"What did you say to Isabella when she called your office all those years ago?"

Curiously, despite everything else, it's the question at the forefront, the one that's been burning a hole in my brain since the minute I found out he'd spoken to her.

His fingers pause in their actions for a fraction of a second. He circles them around and around the keyboard as if trying to find his place again before drawing in a breath and resuming his work.

I stalk closer. "What did you say to her?" I ask through clenched teeth.

"I said what I had to say, what was necessary for me to say," he responds evenly.

I'm right before him now. My hands curl around the cool steel of his laptop. I shut it slowly, waiting for him to lift his eyes and meet my gaze. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he looks up through unflinching blue eyes.

"What did you say to her?" I repeat slowly.

"She could've brought everything down, Edward. Do you even realize how much she could've destroyed with that one phone call? Have you stopped to think about that? She could have destroyed not only _your_ future, but that of those who were backing us, who'd thrown in their lot with ours, those who were counting on you to carry on the legacy!"

"You mean those who'd already interfered and would now have to answer for their interference if it ever became public," I sneer.

He glares at me. "I was protecting you, protecting the future she was ready to destroy!"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER?" I bellow down at him.

He stands up and yells in my face. "I TOLD HER THE REALITY OF THE SITUATION SHE'D GOTTEN HERSELF INTO, WHICH IS MORE THAN I CAN SAY FOR HOW YOU OBVIOUSLY LEFT THINGS! I told her you had a future that could _never_ include her, and that if she had any sense she'd take care of her fucking problem, and I warned her to leave you alone! I DID YOU A FAVOR!" he roars - right before my fist slams into his jaw and he falls back over his expensive leather swivel chair.

I feel someone behind me gripping my shoulders and though I know I can easily break free from his hold, I don't even attempt to. Instead, I glare down at Carlisle Cullen with more disgust than I thought I could ever feel for my own flesh and blood. The sight of him sitting there all askew, his previously perfectly styled hair in disarray, his tie hanging off-center from his throat brings up bile in my own throat. I shrug off Jasper's grip.

"I've got it, Jasper," I assure him, heaving wildly. "I'm okay. I've got it."

Gripping the edges of his seat, I lean into Carlisle.

"You unimaginable bastard," I hiss. "You told her to…to…to abort your own grandchild?" I choke out in horror. "What kind of a fucking monster are you?"

He cradles his jaw in one hand, sitting awkwardly, glaring at me. "You want to call me a monster," he sneers, "go ahead. You want to make me out to be the bad guy here, that's fine. Some girl you spent one fucking weekend with calls to say she's got your baby in her belly, and I'm supposed to welcome her into the family with open arms? That could've been anybody's bastard she was carrying! I'm supposed to let her destroy everything we'd worked on our entire lives for something that may not have even been yours?"

"YOU HAD NO FUCKING RIGHT TO MAKE THAT DECISION!" I howl in his face, banging his desk with the palm of my hand. "YOU SHOULD'VE TOLD ME! I LOVED HER!" All air leaves my lungs. "I love her," I say shakily. "Do you even know what that means? Have you ever loved anyone in your entire godforsaken life?"

"Have I ever…? I was protecting _you_," he snarls, "not just from her and the damage she would've caused but from the wrath of those who would not have merely stood around and let you have a happily-ever-after that destroyed all their plans, that would've taken the future away from them!"

In that one instant, it all becomes clear to me, _all_ the involvement and how deeply it runs, how deeply it continues. Why Emmett and I couldn't find anyone other than Jay Jenks involved.

Jesus, how did I not see it from the very beginning? From the moment our eyes met in that pub, Bella and I hadn't stood a chance.

"And that's what I did this morning. I'm protecting you from yourself because you just don't see what's going on here, Edward! Giving up your legacy is _not_ an option! Now there will be talk and speculation, and the press will have a field day for a while, but it'll die down and in the end, you'll have your daughter, you'll have your career, and you'll have your reputation!"

"And what about Bella?" I seethe, "What does she get?"

He snorts. "She gets exactly what every other woman in history who's tried to stop a legacy gets."

"No." I shake my head, pressing my fists to my temples and forcing myself to back away from him before I forget once more that despite everything this maniac before me is my father, that my mother loved him once and must've seen some good in him. But it's never been more obvious than it is now that anything good in him died when she did.

"No, that's not how it's going to happen. I've underestimated you, but you've obviously underestimated me as well if you thought I'd simply go along with this. Where's the file?"

"What file?" he spits.

"The file you've kept on Bella and my daughter! Where is it?"

His eyes flash almost imperceptibly to the bottom drawer of his desk, but I catch the way they move over it nervously. His cool composure is slipping, the impenetrable mask of indifference isn't quite so impenetrable at the moment.

I pull on the drawer but of course, it's locked.

"What the hell are you…"

When I yank on it with every ounce of strength I can muster, I hear the lock break, and the drawer jerks open.

"Edward, goddamn it! Get out of my personal-"

He stands up quickly, but Jasper moves quicker, blocking him while I rummage through the drawer until I find a file, right at the very bottom, with the initials "JJ" on the tab.

"God damn it, Edward-"

I draw in a sharp gasp when I open the file. There are pictures of Bella, of Bella and my daughter:

Bella sitting in a booth in a restaurant, obviously pregnant, with a guy I vaguely recognize next to her, his arm around her shoulder.

Bella at the beach with the same guy, snapping pictures while he smiles widely at the tiny, little infant in his arms.

Bella in a restaurant again, though this one looks much more pricey, sitting across from Michael Newton as he gazes at her.

Bella and Michael Newton again. This time he's standing behind her, his hands on her hips as he leans into her neck.

Bella and I just yesterday at our daughter's soccer game, after Elizabeth scored the winning goal and I held Bella wrapped in my arms.

"What the hell are these?" I breathe, flipping through more pictures. Dozens and dozens of pictures, including the one I have a copy of, the one of Elizabeth and me.

"That file could've been your insurance. But you fucked it all up so now we're going with Plan B."

Part of me can't even believe I'm seeing these things; hearing these words.

"God, I really underestimated you," I murmur. "Time and time again, I underestimated the lengths you'd go to." I draw in a deep, bewildered breath and let it out slowly while he stands there, glowering furiously.

"I was just trying to protect you."

"You weren't trying to protect me," I snort. "It was never about protecting _me_. It was about preserving your legacy, the one _you've_ single-handedly destroyed."

"Edward-"

"This morning, I'm requesting an order of protection against you on behalf of Bella and my daughter. You will never come near me or my family again. You will never have anyone else come near me or my family again. You will never step foot in my house. You will never dare speak on my behalf. I'm opening an investigation on who released this morning's falsified statement and will press all charges against those found at fault."

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" he hisses. "You can't bring down that kind of negative publicity on us! Against your own family!"

"That's what you gambled on, wasn't it? That I wouldn't have the balls to expose you, to expose your legacy for the lie it truly is. To go against my family, but _you_ are no longer my family. I'm _protecting_ my family," I snarl, banging my fisted hand into my chest. "My life is no longer any of your concern. You'll be too busy answering questions from the AG on why you released a falsified statement on a congressman's behalf and on all your shady dealings with Jay Jenks, answering for all the shit you've done on behalf of this legacy. You want to play dirty, old man? I can play dirty too. You _will_ keep your mouth shut regarding anything to do with Bella or my daughter or I _will_ tell the entire world how you threatened the mother of your grandchild when she called you scared shitless and needing help. How you told her to _abort_ your grandchild for the sake of this legacy _and_ for the sake of those who were involved in it. It won't take long for the press to put two and two together. Now, if you really want to keep one shred of dignity to your Cullen Legacy, you will never speak Bella's name or our daughter's name again. You will never look at Bella or at our daughter again."

His nostrils flare, and something flashes in his eyes. I cock my head sideways.

"You haven't let yourself look at her, really look at _Elizabeth_, have you, despite all the pictures?"

He doesn't respond, but I know I'm right.

"Someday, you'll see her, but only from far away, and when you let yourself see her, _really_ see her, you're going to feel more regret than you've ever felt in your entire damned life."

He snorts and holds my gaze. "Son, you have no idea what you're doing. This wasn't all just me."

"Oh, I know exactly who else was involved, and you're going to stay the hell out of it while I handle it. As much as you may think that I haven't, I _have_ learned a lot from you. You _and_ your friends will stay out of my private and public affairs from now on or the whole world will know the entire story you've all been trying to cover up all these years."

"I was only trying to protect you," he says once more.

I chuckle bitterly. "You of all people should know, Dad, that those are famous last words." I thrust the file clutched in my hands in his face. "And if there's more of this somewhere, you better make sure it all gets destroyed because if any of this ever makes the light of day, the scandal you're about to face will seem like a happy photo op in comparison to what I'll do to you. I will use every ounce of influence I have to dig you into a hole so deep you will _never_ be able to climb out of it!"

OOOOOOOOOO

"Alright, Edward. I've moved up the press conference to noon. It's the best we could do. What else do you need?"

Jasper and I are headed back to my office. I'm trying my damndest to focus because there's still so much that needs to get done.

I exhale heavily as I look at him – my Chief-of-Staff.

"As soon as we get to the office, get me the FBI and the Speaker of the House on the line."

"Will do."

OOOOOOOOOO

I've tried calling Bella a half dozen times, but she hasn't answered. I called Emmett and told him what's happened. He's keeping my daughter safe and calling in a few reinforcements.

And Jesus, the things they're saying about Bella on TV, on the radio…

**BELLA, PLEASE CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS MESSAGE.**

OOOOOOOOOOO

When I arrive at my office, there are already a few reporters outside.

"No comment," I call out before they can ask their questions. "I have no comment until my press conference later today."

Inside my office, loud voices turned to shocked whispers as they look at me.

"Edward," Kate approaches me meekly. "I…I received a phone call early this morning. They said it was from Fox News simply confirming the 3 o'clock spot for you. I was doing a thousand things at once," she starts sobbing, "so I didn't bother to check. It could've been…I mean I'm not sure if they'd go that far…"

I snort and shake my head. "Kate, I'm sorry, but I need your resignation on my desk before noon."

"Edward, no!" she cries.

My nostrils flare. "Look, one of two things happened this morning. Either you knew what my father was planning and for whatever reasons, you let it happen, or you were completely incompetent with your job, and your incompetency resulted in a blasphemous statement being released on my behalf. Either way, I can't have you on my team anymore."

"Edward, I would _never_ betray you," she hisses.

"I sincerely hope that turns out to be the truth, because I'm speaking to the FBI and to the House this morning, and opening up an investigation. Whoever is found to have been involved _will_ be prosecuted."

She nods and looks down, openly sobbing. "You'll have my resignation within the hour."

I look up at the rest of my staff, all staring at me in bewilderment. This isn't the way I usually behave, but this is no longer about me, rather it's about Bella and my daughter, and I won't let anyone… anyone hurt them again.

"I'm sure you all heard this morning's statement. While this office was not responsible for releasing it, nevertheless, the part about me having a daughter is true. Most everything else in that statement though was either a blatant lie or a re-working of the truth. You will all know the truth after my press conference, but for now, I need to make a couple of things clear."

They all watch me quietly.

"Contrary to what's being reported this morning, I am withdrawing from the Senatorial race."

Groans of protest.

"I want to apologize to those of you who've worked so hard on the campaign and tell you that I appreciate your hard work, but my family takes complete precedence over any race."

For a few minutes, I stand and look at them, at the disappointed faces of those who are out of a job now that there is no longer a campaign. I truly feel sorry for them, but this is bigger than all of that.

"The second thing I'd like to make absolutely clear in order to ensure that there are no further misunderstandings is that from now on, if you are going to work for me, there will be a few very simple, but extremely important rules."

I wait to make sure they're all paying one hundred percent attention.

"There will be no communication whatsoever with my father, or any of his associates on anything related to this office or any information of mine to which some of you are privy.

You will double-check and triple check all sources to make sure that they are not in any way related to my father or his office.

You will not release any information unless you have double and triple checked to whom that information is going.

And above all, I have to demand complete loyalty. There's much more at stake than a Senatorial race now. There's my daughter and her mother, and I will not allow their rights or privacy to be violated.

If you cannot guarantee me your complete loyalty, I ask that you please hand me your resignation letters as soon as possible."

I wait.

They all stand there, staring at me, and then slowly, one young kid moves forward. He's an intern that was working on the Senatorial campaign – now out of a job.

"Good luck, Congressman," he says. "I hope everything works out for you."

"Thanks, Tony," I say. "Let me know if you need a recommendation letter."

One by one, a few people leave, but they're all the ones that worked solely on the campaign, and they all wish me luck on their way out.

When those that are staying are left, I look out at them once more.

"Alright, it's time to fix this clusterfuck. For now, the official word is that this office has no comment until we hold our press conference at noon."

OOOOOOOOO

She must know by now. She must know, and she must be all sorts of enraged.

**Bella, I had nothing to do with it.**

Fifteen minutes later, there's still no answer.

After a couple more text messages that go unanswered, I call Renee.

"Edward." I can tell by her tone that she knows exactly what's going on.

"Renee…I swear I didn't release that statement."

She's doesn't respond.

"I'm taking care of it, Renee. I swear to you."

She sighs. "Edward, don't let my daughter be crucified this way."

I shut my eyes tight. "Renee, I love both Elizabeth _and_ Bella more than anything in the world. She won't be crucified. I won't allow it."

"Alright, then," she says softly, like she said just a few hours ago, but this time I can hear the tears in her voice.

OOOOOOOOOO

I stare blindly out the window, drained after my calls with the FBI and the Speaker of the House. When I turn and look at the TV, there are two people on the screen who I recognize; fellow Congress members, one from each party. They both appear a bit shocked, squirming, patting down their hair, and adjusting their clothing as if not completely prepared for whatever they're being asked. I turn up the volume.

_"…for the Congressman. If indeed he knew nothing about it, then the public should be outraged on his behalf. You do not keep a father from his child, especially not with the idea of extorting him in exchange for that information."_

_"Let's not lose sight of the real issue here: whether or not he knew anything about it, the fact still remains that if he has a six-year old child, that child was conceived while he was engaged to Tanya Martin, then Senator Martin's daughter. He had made a commitment, which means that regardless of how he tried to justify it in that statement, he all but had an affair."_

_"He's not denying that he was engaged to Ms. Martin at the time of the conception, but he was not married. There was no affair here, and he has apologized to both his ex-wife and the President for his indiscretion."_

_"It's alright then? Is that what you're saying? What does that say of the Congressman's character, if he lied to his wife and the President of the United States for years about possibly being a father? Is that the kind of man we want in the Senate, possibly in the White House in a few years?"_

_"He's a human being, for goodness sakes," the congresswoman on screen chuckles. "We all make mistakes, and as his statement says, he knew nothing of the child. He's only just found out in the past seventy-two hours when he got a hold of the article Ms. Isabella Swan was planning to publish in ERA magazine. If anyone's character should be questioned this morning, it's Ms. Swan's, not Congressman Cullen's."_

"FUCK!" I bang my head against the desk.

_"How much do you think this will hurt his run for Senate?"_ someone in the background asks.

_"Honestly? I think it may have a few people talking for a few days, but he's promised to take responsibility for the child. He wasn't aware of her existence until a few days ago, and most importantly, he wasn't married to his ex-wife at the time of the child's conception. Look, he was serving his country, a soldier on leave from the daily horrors in Afghanistan. Can we fault him for being human? I think its obvious that the true party to blame here is Ms. Isabella Swan. She kept her daughter a secret for all these years, simply waiting for the right moment to strike with this knowledge, to expose it in such a horrible way while trying to destroy the name of what's always been known as an upstanding prominent family. I think the public will understandably forgive the Congressman for his indiscretion all those years ago while a soldier on leave. It's Ms. Swan that will need to-"_

I pound on the remote until the TV goes dead.

Just then, my cell phone vibrates. My heart drums anxiously when I see it's finally some form of communication from Bella, but once I read her text message, I kind of wish she would've just kept giving me the silent treatment.

"God damn it," I mutter as I try to call her again, but she ignores my call.

**Damn it, Bella, pick up your phone!**

**Sod off.**

I throw my head back against the headrest and chuckle bitterly before sending out one final message to her.

OOOOOOOOOO

An hour or so later, I'm cradling my head in my hands over my desk, mentally drained, but there's still so much I have to do. I've got to finish my speech and-

The phone rings. I pick it up right away without bothering to check the Caller ID, hoping it's finally Bella.

"Bella?"

"Congressman Cullen, please hold for the President."

My entire body stiffens.

"Edward!" President Martin's strangely cheerful voice comes on the line.

"President Martin," I respond.

"What's going on, Edward? What is all this I'm hearing in the press this morning?"

I don't comment right away. Years have passed, but I remember it all clearly and though no, it wasn't his fault that I was the weak one, it wasn't his place to interfere. Not then, not afterwards.

And by this strangely cheerful phone call, he definitely knows it.

"I have a daughter, Mr. President, a beautiful, six-year old little girl."

He's silent.

"It was with…that woman from London?"

If he's willing to mention that, he must be taking precautions to make sure that this call never sees the light of day.

"It was with the woman I fell in love with in London, yes, as I told you that day you called."

More silence.

"Well, if it's true that she planned to expose you in that article, then it's a good thing that you exposed her first."

"I didn't release that statement this morning," I sneer. "It was released on my behalf."

"On your behalf?" he says. "Who would do that?"

I almost laugh out loud. The same people who announced my "engagement" on my behalf.

"My father," I say instead. "My father has done a lot of things to keep me away from my daughter over the past few years. I'm just starting to figure out how much."

"Hmm," he murmurs quietly. "Well, Edward, it was a shame that things between my daughter and you didn't work out, but as a father yourself now, I'm sure you see just how much we as parents will do for our children. I'm sure your father only meant well. I'm watching the fall-out from this morning's statement, and regardless of who actually released it, things may very well work out for you yet. Ms. Swan will take the fall, as well deserved for keeping the knowledge of your daughter from you whether she planned to expose it in the magazine or not. My only advice to you now is that you simply roll with it. Don't turn it into more than it is. The news is out there now, and early findings show that the vast majority of the public sympathizes with you: just a regular man kept away from his child. Simply ride it out, and you should be alright. You'll have your daughter, and will _still_ have a chance at the Oval Office in a few years. What more can you possibly ask for, Edward? The American public is made up of a very forgiving group of people, but only up to a certain point. I'm sure you know that. I wouldn't advise pushing them too far."

I hold back a snort. "So that's your advice, Mr. President? Just roll with it and it should be alright?"

"Exactly. I hear that you've got a…press conference coming up?"

"Yes."

"Keep your legacy in mind, Edward. Remember that you were groomed for something much larger than all of this nonsense. And remember how much you'll have to answer for if the public misunderstands the story somehow. Always remember your legacy, Edward, and you should be fine."

"Don't worry, Mr. President. I have no intention whatsoever of letting my legacy down again."

"That's good to hear. It's always good to talk with you, Edward."

OOOOOOOOOO

At quarter to twelve, Aunt Esme arrives. She looks shaken.

"Edward." She pulls me into a tight hug. "The things they're saying on TV and the radio. Poor Isabella. How is she dealing with it?"

I shake my head, and because she knows me so well, that one action tells her all.

"Oh, Edward. She'll come around. Deep inside, she does believe in you."

I snort. "How would you know that?"

"We spoke, when she was at Oyster Bay. I could tell by the things she said, Edward, that she had more faith in you than she even realized herself."

I purse my lips doubtfully.

"In the meantime," she continues, "what are you going to do?"

"Fix it. Fix everything once and for all."

OOOOOOOOOO

At eleven fifty-nine I walk towards the podium. Aunt Esme walks with me and it does help, having her there with me. Jasper is still working behind the scenes somewhere. I picture Bella walking by my side, our daughter between us. The decisions I made seven years ago changed her life forever. I feel a sudden sense of peace, and actually manage to smile at my Aunt when she asks me if I'm sure of what I'm doing.

I am.

I'm doing what I should've done then - seven years later, but hopefully not seven years too late. My political career may or may not survive this one speech, but I won't survive seven more years without Bella and our daughter.

The cameraman gives me the thumbs up as the cameras flash against my eyes. My first instinct is to put my mask up, but no, not anymore. I am _not_ my father.

"Good afternoon. This morning, a statement was issued…"

* * *

**A/N: …and you know the rest. :)**

**Thoughts?**

**So now that we know all that occurred on Edward's side, Friday, we'll have them both in the same room again. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**

**Thanks for all of your well-wishes for my anniversary. We had a very nice time despite the crappy weather. Today we're barbecuing! :)**

**Song Rec for this chapter: **_**Viva La Vida**_** by Coldplay, as per the chapter title :)**


	27. Chapter 27 - The Talk

**A/N: Okay, that's it. After today we're going back to our regular posting schedule. I mean it! :)**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes puts up with my craziness to beta this here stuff.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Ch. 27 – The Talk**

* * *

Edward arrives back in London late Tuesday afternoon. Emmett sends a couple of the ex-federal agent friends he's hired to pick him up from Heathrow, while he and a couple of others stay behind with us.

When they arrive, Ellie and I are standing by the window, peaking through the closed blinds and watching the black car park along the narrow street. I hold Ellie's arm firmly in my grasp so that she doesn't run out the way I know she's absolutely itching to - the way we're both itching to honestly. My entire body vibrates with the need to run - though I'm not sure in which direction. I'm anxious and terrified all at once.

Ellie holds Snowy clutched tightly in the crook of her arm. She gasps when she sees her father emerge from the much more reasonably sized BMW he's rented this time. Seth and Paul flank him on either side.

"Mummy, it's Daddy! It's Daddy!" She jumps up and down trying to free herself from my grasp. "I want to go to him!"

"He's coming right in, Darling." I try to soothe her, running my hand down her long hair as we watch a couple of reporters approach Edward. He looks straight ahead while his lips move around, "I have no comment, thank you."

"They want to talk to Daddy too?" Ellie asks.

I sigh. "Yes, my love. They want to talk to Daddy too."

When I open the door, his eyes find mine immediately. For a split second, we simply hold each other's gazes, but the nervous and probably out-of-place smile I'm wearing falters when I see how furious he appears. He must've heard. Of course he has. It was all over the U.K. papers and I assume the American ones as well this morning.

"Come in," I gesture with my head, closing the door soundly behind him.

"Daddy, Daddy!"

"Elizabeth," he breathes while his daughter runs to him. He kneels down and wraps her in his arms.

"I missed you, Daddy. You said you'd be back on Wednesday, and you came home early, but I still missed you!" Ellie exclaims happily, still holding him tight.

"Nothing would've kept me away, Honey." He kisses her forehead and runs a hand down the length of her hair much as I was just doing, but I do it out of habit, something I've been doing for years because I enjoy the soft, silkiness of her hair. When he does it…it's as if he's trying to reassure himself that she's real; all flesh and blood. He reaches into his jacket and pulls something out, a little white teddy bear that looks like Snowy but much tinier, with a pink ribbon over one of its ears.

Ellie sees it, and her eyes grow wide before a huge smile erupts, and she squeals.

"It's Snowy's little girl," he grins at her.

"You found her in America?" she asks in awe.

He nods. "I suppose she was lost too."

She reaches out and takes the bear from him, mashing it into the crook of her arm together with Snowy.

"Now they'll always be together!"

He hugs her again, moving his eyes up to me, and breathes, "Yes, they will."

OOOOOOOOOO

After catching up, Emmett suggests some outside play in the garden for Ellie. I've never been more thankful for the high fences and shrubbery my father once installed all around the back garden. It's the only outdoors Ellie has gotten for the past couple of days.

"Yes, let's go play outside, Daddy!" she grins up at him excitedly.

"Why don't you go get started with Emmett while Mommy and I talk for a minute, okay?"

"Alright, Daddy."

"Bet you can't score one single goal past me, kid," Emmett teases her.

She screws up her little face. "Oh, yeah? You're on, Emmett!" And she runs to the back.

"Stay close to her," Edward instructs.

"Course, man," Emmett says solemnly, and then with a smile, he runs after. "You're in for it now, kid."

We're left alone, Edward and I. Other than the necessary logistics for his arrival this afternoon, we haven't spoken. He stares at me from where he sits on the two-seater he was just sharing with our daughter, lips pressed in a tight line, while I remain stiff on the opposite sofa. I'm nervous, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say now.

"Edward…that…speech, I wish you wouldn't have-"

"He fired you," he hisses.

I shake my head. "No, they're reporting it wrong in the media. He asked me to take some time off."

"Then why the hell doesn't he correct them?"

"Because he's keeping his options open until he sees how this all plays out."

He shakes his head, nostrils flaring. "That asshole. After all that shit about what a good friend he was."

"He was a good friend," I counter. "He _is_ a good friend. But he's a businessman first and foremost, Edward. I don't begrudge him his decision. I would've made the same one in his shoes."

"_Why_ do you defend him?"

"Because there was no other choice."

His eyes flash with fury.

"Edward," I sigh, "I appreciate what you did in that press conference, I really do, but the idea that I was planning on exposing you in that article is already out there. It's only logical that Michael would want to see how everything plays out before he makes a decision regarding my job. Keeping me on right now will only undermine the magazine's reputation."

He leans forward, lips twisted in anger. "If he was such a good friend, if he…" – he huffs impatiently – "…if he cared about you at all, he'd tell them all to go fuck themselves and-"

"And what, Edward? And watch his company's stock plummet? Lose millions upon millions of dollars to make a point?" I shake my head.

"Why doesn't he simply publish the article so everyone can read it for themselves?"

"Because the first thing everyone will think is that the article has been altered to protect the magazine's reputation. Michael has to figure this out too, Edward. He has decisions to make as well, and I understand that."

He glares at me in disbelief, as if there's something more he wants to say, but when his mouth opens he closes it right back, shaking his head. With a frustrated fist against the sofa, he stands and walks off towards the mantle.

I watch his back, the stiff set of his shoulders, the way he runs his hand through his hair continuously.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to stop my father's press release."

This morning's papers were all over the place. I am the focal point of what has in twenty-four hours become either of the following:

A. One of the most tragic love stories in recent political history since the death of JFK Jr. and his wife, Carolyn Bessette, or the Death of Princess Diana of Wales and her boyfriend, Dodi Fayed, or

B. I'm being compared to the late Wallis, Duchess of Windsor, forcing who many have considered the future leader of the free world to abdicate his thrown, figuratively, and bringing down what was considered the best hope America had for the future - despite Edward's public assurances to the contrary.

Oh I know how it works; the public will always choose to believe the most sensational story, and the press will always deliver the story that garners the most sales. It's a complicated, vicious cycle. Now it's simply a wait-and-see-game, to see in what direction all the chips fall.

I stand and move towards Edward, hesitantly at first because though I know, though my mind knows that he's not the cold, calculating bastard I've thought him to be for the past few years, my heart is still so wary of him.

But I force my feet to keep going. I watch his shoulders rise and fall with each troubled breath, and I want to...

I don't really know. I'm not sure what exactly it is that I want to do when I bring my shaking hands to his biceps. They harden as he tenses, startled, but he doesn't turn round.

"Edward, I want to apologize for how I reacted yesterday. Your father played his cards brilliantly, and I was so ready to believe that you'd just roll with it. I was ready to believe the worst of you. I suppose I have been for years," I admit.

He turns around, and I drop my hands when he cradles my face in that way he has of doing, that way that melts all my defenses, and I allow it, swallowing thickly as he holds me locked in his gaze.

"Doubting me has become second-nature to you." He doesn't sound angry when he says it, simply…disheartened.

I can't refute him, though I wish I could. Doubting him _has_ become my go-to response. Yet when his thumbs caress my cheeks, when he comforts me in even such a small manner, my entire body hums. I can't refute that either – not anymore. I try to remain coherent though, because there's so much we need to discuss.

"Edward…as I said, I appreciate what you did during that press conference." I draw in a deep breath and exhale it quickly. "But I wish you wouldn't have had to withdraw from the Senatorial race. I wish you wouldn't have, for all intents and purposes, asked President Martin to kiss your arse."

He snorts and dips his head down to my eye level. Frowning, he gazes at me in total bewilderment.

"_Bella_…I swear to God, I don't understand you."

"That makes two of us," I shrug.

He chuckles and drops his hands, and despite it all, I chuckle along with him.

"I only did what I should've done seven years ago and besides, wasn't the whole point of this so that I would resign? Wasn't the plan to take me out of politics completely?" Despite the topic, there's a strange playfulness to his tone; a lightness. His emerald gaze is intent yet tender.

He's teasing me despite what's occurred, what he's given up.

"It was at first," I admit with a hesitant smile. It's strange, how at ease he is with giving up his legacy. "Regardless, I do think your country needs you. I think you'd be good for it."

He studies me carefully. Though he's let go of my face, he's still so close that his breath warms me.

"I'm still in politics, Bella," he murmurs. "I'm still a congressman. And who knows? Maybe someday in the future…" His eyes search mine. "But for now, for always, my priorities will be Elizabeth...and you."

I don't really know how to respond to that. He's being quite honest, he has been for a while now, I realize, I just didn't allow myself to see it. The truth of that overwhelms me. I've been judging him for his past sins for so long that I've refused to let myself see the man truly before me now, and he's not the same one I met in that pub seven years ago.

"I finally read the article you wrote, on the flight over here," he continues, breaking me out of my thoughts. I'm grateful because I feel as if there's some major answer somewhere if I can just figure out the question, and I can't do it now. I have to be alone, somewhere quiet where I can truly think.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get to it," he adds. "It's just been…" – he runs a hand through his hair – "a hectic week." He grins after proclaiming the understatement of the year.

"That's alright," I smile. "I'm sure you've had more important things on your mind."

"You're a great writer, Bella," he says wistfully. "I…I can't believe that I never knew that about you."

He's been honest with me. Perhaps it's time I'm honest with him…about everything.

"There's a lot we didn't know about each other, Edward. It _was_ only one weekend."

He nods slowly. "Well now that we have a daughter together, I think it's time we learn a lot more about one another."

I study him, the self-restraint I can tell he's struggling with at the moment, we're both struggling with, but for Ellie's sake, we have to do this right this time if we're to have any chance of making it through this mess.

I raise my hands and grip on to his forearms. "Edward, when I found out I was pregnant, I called your dad," my voice trembles at the memory, "and he told me to-"

He covers my mouth gently with his fingers. "Shh, you don't have to repeat it," he whispers. "I made him tell me everything yesterday. I know, Bella. I know the disgusting things he said to you, the vile threats, and you will never know how grateful I am that you didn't…that despite everything, you went through with..."

He doesn't finish, but he doesn't have to. I know to what he refers, so I nod, struggling to swallow back the moisture in my eyes.

"Don't cry, baby," he whispers once more, the way he did on the phone last evening. He wipes a rogue tear away gently with his thumb, stroking my cheek. "Don't cry. I won't let him hurt you ever again, Bella."

"I was scared, Edward. He threatened my family and me, and for a long time, I believed his threats. And when I stopped believing the threats I was just…angry - angry because I felt so alone…without you...and angry because it seemed as if nothing had changed for you while my entire world transformed because of that weekend."

He nods, his eyes full of misery, but he doesn't interrupt me.

"It's not an excuse for waiting so long, I know. But…it's all I have. I'm not going to blame Rose for the fact that I never contacted you because I was a grown woman by then, capable of making my own decisions. I'd watch you on the telly, see you in the papers and you seemed so happy with _her_," I say bitterly despite my efforts. "After your divorce, there were all of the other women…and you simply seemed satisfied with the direction in which your life was leading you. I assumed Ellie wasn't something you'd ever want…or would ever be able to fit into your life."

"It was all a lie, Bella," he shakes his head, "a mountain of lies. I married Tanya because I thought I couldn't have you. Because I trusted the wrong people and I know those aren't valid excuses either, but they're all _I_ have. I was simply going through the motions, Bella. Those women afterwards...I'm an asshole, but they were just temporary companions. I never pretended otherwise with any of them. I think part of it was to piss off my father. Yes, I was still fulfilling the legacy I'd been taught was my duty, but I'd spite him in the process, but Bella," he says in one breath, "the entire time, it was always you. I never stopped dreaming of you. I never stopped wanting that perfect girl that over one short weekend I got to know better than I'd ever known anyone."

"Edward, we didn't get to know each other. We _don't_ know each other. We spent one weekend together, in bed no less. What could we have possibly learned about who we really were? You just said you had no idea about my writing and Edward, that's always been a _huge_ part of me. And this passion you have when you speak in front of people, I never knew about that either, not until recently."

Once again he wraps his hands around my face, so abruptly I inhale sharply. "Don't say we don't know each other," he demands, nostrils flaring. "We know what matters, Bella. I know who you really are," – he places his palm on my chest, over my quickly beating heart – "what you're really like on the inside beyond this wall that only a select few have access beyond." When his eyes bore into mine and that intensity he possesses fill his features, I hold my breath.

"That's… _that's_ the Bella I fell in love with. That's the Bella I _still_ love."

I gasp, while another lone tear rolls down my face. Yes, he said it on the telly just yesterday for the entire world to hear, but now, he's saying it here, privately, only to me and perhaps some part of me still doubted, still thought it could've been for the press, for his image…

But hearing him say it in person, it's both exhilarating and terrifying. I'm overwhelmed and so scared of giving in because I know my heart won't survive a second break, yet I know that's where I'm headed – towards giving him my everything once more.

So I continue fighting, because if I don't there'll be no turning back and I'll be lost.

"Edward…what if…what if you didn't fall in love with me?"

He narrows his eyes, confused.

"What if you fell in love with an idea, a concept? The notion that you could choose someone completely opposite in every way from what your father wanted for you. You just said that the various women after Tanya were to annoy your father. Perhaps I was another rebellious phase, another way to stick it to your dad. Perhaps even those few seconds when we had sex without a condom was a way for you to rebel, for you to shed every single responsibility that had been placed on you, and I'm sorry." I choke over the last few words as I give in and cradle his face in my hands, hold him in a way I've only dreamed of holding him all these years. "I'm so sorry that you had so much with which to contend, but I shouldn't have been your way to finally show defiance."

He pulls me in closer, chest to chest; his arms circle my waist while his heart beats erratically against mine.

"No, Bella," he insists. "You weren't defiance. I fell in _love_ with you," he stresses. I drop my head so he won't see the tears I can no longer hold back, but he picks my chin up with his thumb and forefinger and forces me to hold his gaze. "It terrifies you to hear it, but it's the truth. I fell in love with the way you made me feel, with the way you gave yourself to me so completely, so honestly. No one had ever, _has_ ever, been that open with me. Yes, you were different, but you weren't a way to rebel; you were everything I'd never experienced in my life: true beauty and trust and innocence and openness. I didn't take the god damned condom off because I wanted to rebel, but because I wanted to feel _you_ completely, that warmth that radiated all over your body, that was _everywhere_ and yes, it was irresponsible of me, but not for the shady reasons you're imagining. It was simply because I fell in love with you, with the sweet and loving girl I met that weekend."

"If that's true, then that's a shame," I say shakily, fighting, still fighting. "Because that innocent, trusting girl died that weekend. I'm what's left, and I'm completely different from that ideal you claim you've been holding on to all these years."

He swallows thickly and inches his face closer still while a furious heartbeat thrums between us and I no longer know whether it's his or mine or both of ours

"No, you're not completely different. I know I hurt you. I know I took advantage of your trust and innocence and made you think you could never trust again. But that girl is still in there." He lays a hand over my heart once more. "It's still you, and I'll do whatever's necessary to help you trust me again, to make that girl feel safe once more. _Bella_…"

When his mouth finally finds mine, I snake my arms around his neck and just as I feared, I'm lost…lost and home all at once.

It's not the first kiss we've shared since that weekend, but it's _so_ different from what we shared in that restroom a few weeks ago that it might as well be the first in seven years. A few weeks ago, his mouth consumed me with a desperation I'd assumed arose from pure lust and desire. Now, though I can taste desperation on his lips, on his breath, it's tinged with regret and hope and anxiety and restraint and…and something else.

He fills me with soft, tender brushes against my lips, gently sucking first one, then the other; soft, aching promises as if he _really does know._ As if he knows that though my body may want more as soon as I feel his mouth on mine, as it always did at his touch, my heart can't take it right now, not yet. For now, this is right. This is enough.

_Why_ was I fighting this?

"Bella…" he groans quietly against my mouth, tasting; savoring.

"Edward…"

His fingers caress the nape of my neck while his mouth ghosts kisses all over my face, on my lips, just to the side of them, back and forth across my cheeks, my nose, my eyes, and I feel that girl inside me, the one who one weekend lived and breathed for these kisses, who opened her heart to him so easily and trusted so easily. And yes, she's terrified out of her mind, she's confused senseless…but she's peeking out, and she's exhilarated, and she's thinking maybe…just maybe…

"Edward…I need time, Edward…"

Slowly, he pulls back, and when he does I can see the disappointment in his eyes, etched in his expression, but he nods.

"I need to make sure…I've spent over six years convincing myself that it was all a lie. I can't," – I exhale heavily – "I can't let go of that all in a matter of a few days."

"I understand, Bella." He sighs. "Believe me, I understand better than you might think."

We stand around awkwardly, and when I drop my arms from around his neck, he unwinds his arms from my waist.

"So, what do we do now?" he finally asks, sticking his hands in his pockets, pulling them back out before putting them back in.

I smile softly. "We get to know each other, Edward. Neither of us are who we used to be. Now we have to take it one day at a time. We learn how to be co-parents. We learn how to take care of Ellie together, even if at the end of it…you and I may not be. And we take you and I…slowly this time. We try to trust once again." I draw in a deep breath. It's a long, frightening list of items.

He nods, swallowing thickly. "Bella, things might get worse before they get better."

"I know that," I breathe. "I suppose…it'll be a test."

He simply holds my gaze, but after a few seconds says, "I meant it when I said I wasn't giving up this time."

"Maybe…maybe this time I won't either."

He pulls me into his arms so abruptly and just holds me and it's everything I remember – being in his arms, feeling...safe despite everything going on around us.

"I've missed just holding you," he breathes into my hair, his voice thick with sincerity as if he can read my mind. Maybe, in a way, he can.

"I…I've missed it too."

For now, it's enough.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I tried to get back to as many of you as possible this last chapter, but to those I wasn't able to get back to, just want you to know how much I appreciate your reviews – all reviews. So thanks. :)**

**Actually, I'm thinking of changing posting days to Mondays and Thursdays. We shall see.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	28. Chapter 28 - Sharing the Reins

**A/N: As I mentioned last week, I'm changing my update days to Mondays and Thursdays. I hope these days work for you guys.**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Ch. 28 – Sharing the Reins**

The next morning, Edward returns to the house quite early, before Ellie has woken, to give us a chance to talk about all that occurred while he was back in the U.S.

He tells me everything, about the picture Jasper obtained for him from his friend, about being just a few minutes too late to stop his father's press release, about their argument, and about the file.

Despite the things that Carlisle Cullen said to me over that phone call all those years ago, despite the things Edward has told me, it literally makes my skin crawl to know that my daughter – our daughter – and I have been watched so closely for all these years. It infuriates me as well.

Edward describes a few of the pictures to me. It's quite obvious what Carlisle was planning with that file.

"What are you thinking?" Edward asks me. I can hear the anxiousness in his voice, and see it in the set of his eyes.

We're sitting round the table in the kitchen. Ellie, my mum and Alice are still upstairs sleeping. I'm sipping tea while Edward has a mug of the coffee my mum's bought for him and Emmett.

"Your father is a bloody bastard."

"I know."

We're quiet. I can't help wondering what the hell I've gotten myself mixed up in, gotten my daughter – damn it, _our_ daughter – mixed up in. It's stupid, nonsensical, illogical and probably a bit cliché, but I can't help thinking to myself, "out of all the pubs in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine."

I don't think it went exactly that way, but it's close enough.

I can't possibly mean it though, not when it all led to Ellie, or when I look up at Edward and he looks so guilt-ridden, as if every wrong ever done in this world can be laid at his shoulders. It's what I've believed up until a few days ago, and though I am definitely upset, I can't keep taking it out on him. We both bear blame for how things went awry, but so much of it was apparently out of our hands from day one.

"I don't ever want him anywhere near Ellie."

"He will never come anywhere near you or Elizabeth."

"I'm a grown woman, I can take care of myself, but never near Ellie, Edward. _Never_."

He reaches over the table and grips my hand in his. "Bella, we agree on this. Never."

I nod slowly.

He watches me carefully. "The man…the dark skinned guy in those pictures. There were a few of you and him before and after Elizabeth's birth. Who is he?"

"That must be Jake."

He sits back and I think I see a miniscule tightening of his eyes. "Jake…from the pub," he muses, as if remembering. "I thought he looked a bit familiar." His head bobs up and down stiffly. "Were you…involved with him?"

I hold his gaze. "Yes."

He breathes in a huge lungful of air, filling his lungs to the absolute brink before he releases it with a heavy sigh. When he speaks again his voice is suddenly strained.

He tells me about the orders of protection. He explains that though the press doesn't know about them yet, as soon as they do, it'll be something else for us with which we'll have to contend.

"I apologize for that too, Bella," he adds, his eyes on the table, his posture stiff, "but it was necessary."

"I do see how it was necessary, Edward," I agree. "I may not like it, but I don't want that man anywhere near Ellie."

He nods, and his posture relaxes slightly as he tells me that he's opened up an investigation looking into who released that statement on his behalf, though we know where the arrow will lead. But his father isn't stupid. He's probably covered his tracks pretty well. Unfortunately for him, Edward practically pointed his finger directly at him during the conference, so they'll know where to start looking.

He tells me about the President and all about the phone call then, between Tanya, Martin and himself…and about the phone call now.

We sit around silently while my head tries to wrap itself around how many way we were kept apart and it's almost unbelievable – that so many outside forces could've determined our paths.

He tells me about Jasper – about how upset he'd been at him, but now…now he's redeemed himself because Jasper meant no malice and because of how much he's helped him in the past few days.

"I…suppose I can see that too. He had no idea who I was when I called, or what I was calling for."

It turns my thoughts to Rose.

She meant no malice either, she says. But unlike Jasper, she knew who Edward was, she _knew_ how much I needed him then…

Edward squeezes my hand again, enveloping it in his. I stare at our joined hands, watching his fingers gently caress the top of mine, making it tingle, and for now, I forget about Rose.

"What are you thinking of?"

"I'm thinking…of how strange this is," I muse. "A few months ago, I would've never pictured you and me in the same room, agreeing on anything." The thought makes me snort aloud.

Edward watches me.

"What?"

"I used to picture it," he says lowly. "I used to wonder what it would've been like to wake up to you every morning, to share my days with you, to share my…" – he trails off, drawing in a deep breath that expands his chest, exhaling slowly – "…to share so much with you."

I swallow thickly, unable to break away from the intensity in his gaze.

"I'm sorry for all this," he says suddenly. "For the…craziness that's going to surround us all for the foreseeable future, but Bella, I swear to you, you and Elizabeth will be my priority throughout it all."

"I know."

I blink, having just startled myself. It was an automatic response, but the strange thing is…I might actually believe it.

His ensuing grin is open and surprised, and so captivating. His entire demeanor lightens and I wonder if he knows; if he's aware that these touches of his, these grins, his absolute openness with me is so fascinating, so disarming.

Of course he knows. He's always known.

I hold his gaze. "Edward, I do know. Some things about you are so familiar, yet others are so…different."

He caresses my hand, waiting for me to continue.

"I've always known how seriously you take your responsibilities. That was never a doubt to me. I guess I just have to get used to the idea-"

"Not the idea, the fact," he interjects, as if already knowing where I'm headed.

"Okay," I say slowly, "the fact. The fact that your previous goals are no longer your priorities. You were never supposed to meet me. I was never supposed to have your child. You were supposed to marry Tanya, have children with her." I feel a sharp pang in my chest at the words and see Edward flinch, but we both know that was the original plan. There's no point in pretending it wasn't. "She was to be your First Lady and unite the Cullen and Martin families. President Martin would've remained your father-in-law, your confidante, your adviser. Even after your divorce from Tanya your families could've still remained close so that once you won the Presidency, Martin would've still been your right-hand man. Carrying those plans to fruition was supposed to be your responsibility. Because of our relationship…we upset some very big plans, Edward."

He inhales deeply, letting it out in one long breath. "I wish I could've kept Ellie and you out of this somehow. It's not fair that either of you continually have to pay for my mistakes." He shuts his eyes tight, supporting his forehead with his palm. "God, I'm so sorry."

"Stop."

Quickly, I turn my hand over under his and now it's me gripping him tightly. He looks up quickly and blinks, puzzled.

"Don't apologize for this. Despite the fact that I hate what's going on, and that I hate that Ellie will be caught in the middle of this, I suppose I'm…proud of you, Edward, of the way you handled everything. I didn't expect it, you know I didn't and I won't lie and say that I did, but…I'm grateful."

It is how I feel and despite how scared I am to say it, I know he needs to hear it. "Someday, when Ellie is old enough to understand all this, I think she will be too."

He gazes at me with eyes full of fervent emotion. "Thank you, Bella," he breathes huskily, wrapping both his hands around mine and bringing it up to his lips. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

"Edward-"

He leans over and catches my lips so quickly I don't have time to protest – if that's what I was going to do. I can't be sure, so I allow him to kiss me, to take my top lip between his and alternate with the bottom, softly yet firmly, making those soft sounds he makes, he's always made when he kisses me. I sigh helplessly into his mouth. He's going to kiss me often, I know he is. He knows what it does to me, what it's always done to me and besides, he's so bloody good at it.

I think I'm okay with that.

"Good morning, Loves," my mum calls out.

I break away from Edward quickly, my face flaming at having been caught by my mother though by the wide grin on her face she doesn't seem too surprised or objectionable.

"Edward, darling, my daughter can only make tea, toast and boiled eggs for breakfast. Would you like a nice typical English breakfast?"

Edward grins cheekily, his own face only slightly pink as he keeps his eyes on me. "That sounds great, Renee. Thanks."

"No problem, Love. I think I heard your daughter rustling about in her room if you want to go surprise her. I'm sure she doesn't know you're here already or the entire house would be in an uproar."

Edward's face beams. "I'll be down in a few."

"Alright," I answer quietly, still feeling sheepish about being caught by my mum.

When Edward disappears swiftly upstairs, my mum unceremoniously takes his seat.

"He's a strong man, Bella. Just the sort who can protect you and Ellie."

"Mum, I've taken care of myself and Ellie just fine," I say, a bit miffed not because of anything against Edward per se, but because I sort of resent the implication that Ellie and I need to be taken care of.

"Hear me out, darling," she chuckles, patting my hand, reminding me that Edward's hand was just wrapped round mine a couple of minutes ago. "I know you can take care of yourself and Elizabeth. You've been doing it just fine for the past six years. But there's plenty of hell coming along now, and it makes me feel so much better to know that you don't have to do this alone anymore, Bella."

"I was never alone, Mum," I smile tenderly, "I had you."

My mum isn't the sort to give into tears and sappy emotions, not since my dad died, but I see the way her eyes fill with moisture.

"You'll always have me, but that's not what I meant and you know it."

I nod slowly.

"Oh, darling, it's okay to share the reins," she laughs. "You've been holding them by yourself for so long."

Emmett rushes in then. He bends down and gives my mum a kiss on the cheek, startling me, and musses my hair.

"Morning, Mum, Bella." Goodness, he even says "mum" instead of "mom."

"I've got the morning papers," he announces, an edge to his voice.

_The Guardian,_ _The Sun_, and _The New York Times_ are thrown across the table, with headlines of Edward and I featured in the front of each.

My shoulders drop and I close my eyes. I was expecting it, yet it's still painful to see.

I feel my mum give my shoulder a squeeze. When I look up, she's gazing quietly at me. "You've got him standing next to you now, Bella. Let him share the reigns with you. You can both lighten the load for one another."

Emmett stands behind my mum, nodding vehemently, not even trying to hide the fact that he's listening.

I take a deep breath and stare down at the papers.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Mummy, Daddy, why do those people with cameras follow us so much?" Ellie asks a couple of nights later while Edward and I are both putting her in bed.

It's something I was hoping we wouldn't have to get into too deeply, but Ellie is too inquisitive for that. She won't let it go if we try to give her a half-arsed answer, and unfortunately, the press is not going away anytime soon. We're on the telly, in the papers, and we can't keep her sheltered from it all, no matter how hard both Edward have been trying to do so for the past few days.

The public speculation continues, but a few things are now being taken as "fact":

Edward didn't know about his daughter.

He wasn't married when she was conceived.

He was a soldier on leave with all the pressures that come with that.

He's human.

He was and apparently may still be "in love."

He's obviously eager and willing to build a relationship with the daughter that may or may not have been hidden from him all these years.

He was honest and has turned the political world on his head with his honesty, created an upheaval of mystery and speculation with promised investigations.

He should still run for Senate.

_I_ am still an enigma. What were _my_ true intentions? Strangely, in the U.S. they seem to be focusing more on getting to the bottom of everything, and Edward's chances if he changes his mind and returns to the Senate race once he returns to the U.S., while the British Tabloids are having a field day with me. Edward was actually considering holding another press conference, but I convinced him not to. He already made his statement and if he tries to push it anymore, the public will see it as him trying to defend me at all costs, even that of the truth.

Besides, little by little, the public and media seem to be putting two and two together.

The AG is looking into who released that statement on behalf of Congressman Cullen's office. Was it Edward's father, Carlisle Cullen, and if so, was he also involved in releasing a statement about Edward and Tanya's "engagement" prematurely?

Was President Martin involved in any way, while he was still Senator?

And the latest whispers: Could the President himself have been involved in any way in covering up the child's existence?

I'm less concerned with the speculation surrounding me right now than with how all this will affect our daughter, because this is just the beginning. Once Edward returns, he'll be meeting with federal investigators. The media still hasn't heard of the upcoming investigation. Once they do hear…well, the implications are tremendous.

Yes, this has all only just begun.

I don't begrudge Edward the fact that the public was ready to forgive him almost the second after he stepped down from that podium. He's a man who he cares about the issues affecting his country, affecting our world, and he'll continue to do his job as congressman regardless of the media involvement in our personal lives. At times, it's still hard to reconcile this Edward with my beliefs of the past seven years.

He'll be leaving again at the end of the week. He's still Congressman Edward Cullen and along with that come all the responsibilities of helping to run a government. He'll be in session all week and frankly it makes me uncomfortable, not because I doubt his intentions, but because I'm realizing just how much I'm allowing myself to believe in him. With everything going on, with the things to come, I suppose, like my mum said, I need him to help me with the reins, to help me navigate this situation.

I'm starting to depend on him, and it scares the hell out of me.

All of which brings us to the current question from Ellie.

"Ellie…"I run my fingers through her hair while she lies against her pillow, watching us through eyes full of trust, "a long time ago, Mummy and Daddy…" – I look to Edward – "we both made some mistakes, mistakes that made it…difficult for Daddy to find you. And now that he has found you, a lot of people, both here and in America, have questions."

"But why?"

"Elizabeth, do you understand what a government is?" Edward asks her.

Ellie shakes her head.

"Let me explain it to you," he offers.

"Oh, God, we're going to be here for hours." I smile cheekily.

He smirks, but his eyes flash, and I can tell he's remembering the same thing I am – that first American Government lesson he gave me.

"Fine," he sneers playfully as I chuckle, feeling my cheeks burn a bit at the memory - but not uncomfortably, "I'll give her the shortened version. A government helps to run a country, honey. Back in the U.S., I'm part of the government."

"Like Prime Minister Cameron?" Ellie asks.

"Something like that, but a bit different," I clarify for her. "However, just like Prime Minister Cameron is sometimes on the telly and in the papers, your daddy is also on the telly and in the papers. And just like when something happens with the Prime Minister they talk about it on the telly and in the papers-"

"They want to talk about how Daddy found me?" she asks.

"Exactly," I smile.

Edward looks at me, eyes full of pride. "She's so smart," he mouths.

"Mummy, when I was playing with Sammy from next door earlier, he said his daddy said that you were hiding me from my daddy."

Bloody 'ell.

"Ellie, I…"

"Elizabeth," Edward murmurs softly, "your mommy never hid you from me. There are…things that are hard to explain, and we _will_ explain them to you when you're older, but…some people, people you don't know, did things so that I wouldn't know about you. But now that I do know about you, I'm here, and I'll always be here, and your mommy and I together will always take care of you."

"But why would people do that, Daddy?"

"Because sometimes…people don't think things through when they make a decision, and then they make mistakes."

"Will those people try to keep you away from me again, Daddy?" Her bottom lip trembles, and she suddenly looks so frightened it guts me.

"No. No, Elizabeth," he assures her quickly and before I can react he reaches down and picks her up out of her bed, settling her on his lap. "No one will ever keep me away from you again. I promise you." He kisses her forehead, and she melts into him. "Okay?"

She nods, a small smile on her face as she holds on to him tightly, closing her eyes.

They're both quiet, and after a few seconds, I give Ellie one of my own kisses on her forehead and stand up quietly, leaving father and daughter to begin catching up on six years of lost moments.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward finds me in the kitchen, where I'm gazing up at the rare sight of bright stars shining over the garden through the window, wishing I could see them from outside. But I don't feel like dealing with flashing cameras right now.

"She's asleep," he breathes behind me.

I nod.

When his warm arms circle my waist, when his breath washes over me, I lean against him and sigh, feeling comfortable – too comfortable.

"_I'm going to take care of you this time…"_

"Congress meets for the entire week this session. I won't be back until the following weekend and after that talk we just had, I'm afraid I've left Elizabeth apprehensive. Maybe I shouldn't have told her all that."

"Edward, you've seen how inquisitive she is. She would've kept asking."

I turn around, but he keeps his arms around my waist. He looks truly concerned. It honestly makes me feel bad for him - yet strangely pleased by the open reactions he no longer hides from me.

I try to give him a reassuring smile. "She'll be okay, Edward. You'll call her, and she'll call you at all hours of the night no matter how much my mum and I explain the time difference to her." He laughs. "You're going to have to return to your office in New York eventually also."

"I'm not even thinking about the office now," he mutters.

I frown. I know he wants to spend as much time as possible with Ellie, but the truth is that there is a wide ocean separating them.

"Edward, it's okay. I'll just…keep reassuring her that you'll be back."

"I _will_ be back, as soon as this session is over." He smiles suddenly, as if he's just realized what I said. "You'll reassure her that I'll be back?"

"Yes." I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I will."

He holds my gaze. I watch his finger as it moves to my face and runs it down my cheek, making me tingle.

"And you, Bella? Do you believe I'll be back? Do you believe I'll keep my promises this time?"

I don't respond, but when he lowers his mouth to mine, when he gives me more of the soft, tender kisses he's been giving me, then I respond in kind.

We'll take it slow this time, because we went so fast the first time. In the blink of an eye, we had it all…and then we had nothing.

Maybe this time, despite all the chaos, we can find a way to make it work.

OOOOOOOOOO

When Sunday rolls along, we do take Ellie to her football game, despite the media that waits for us outside of our home and at the field.

They ask questions left and right when we climb out of Edward's car despite Emmett and the rest of the guys' efforts at keeping them as far away from us as possible.

Ellie looks at them all wide-eyed. I can only hope she doesn't understand half of the questions they're asking.

"Mummy, Daddy, will they always take pictures of us?" she asks.

"No, not always," Edward assures her. "Let's just pretend they're not there, and they'll go away eventually." He gives her one of his disarming yet reassuring grins and she sits back in her seat, nodding vehemently. If her dad said to ignore them, Ellie is determined to ignore them.

None of us have much time to dwell on the media once Ellie's game begins. Like her father, she is quite determined once she gets her mind on something, and right now, that's the game she's playing.

Unfortunately, this week her team does end up losing. She walks off the field smiling though while Rosalie pats her and the rest of the girls on their heads and congratulates them on a job well done.

"We lost," she shrugs matter-of-factly when she reaches us.

Edward chuckles and picks her up. "Losing is just as important as winning."

"That's what Aunty Rose just said."

Edward purses his lips but doesn't respond.

The media is still around, but Edward doesn't want to deprive his daughter of ice-cream in Old Leigh. I think this is about to become a tradition. It's true though, we can't hide. We have to keep living our lives.

"Let me just use the restroom," I call out as Edward struts back to the car with his daughter in tow.

He turns, forehead wrinkled. "Do you want us to wait?"

"No, you go along and take Ellie back to the car. I'll be right there."

He nods. "Emmett, do me a favor, stay with Bella, please."

Emmett nods, instructing the rest of the guys to follow Edward and Ellie, and walks over to me while I roll my eyes.

"Are you going to come into the loo with me too?"

He grins. "Only if you ask nicely."

He chuckles as I pretend to scowl at him. "Can you at least wait a couple of yards from the bathroom? It's not exactly easy to relieve oneself knowing a man is right outside waiting."

He taps his finger against his chin, as if pondering this. "Yeah, I can see how that might spook you into non-performance." He shrugs. "I'll wait right here."

"Thanks," I sneer, hearing his loud guffaws as I walk to the small building housing the loos.

While I'm washing my hands, I hear a couple of voices outside and frown, positive the reporters have followed me to the restroom. Christ, can't one even piss in peace?

I'm surprised when I emerge outside and find Emmett and Rosalie glaring at each other.

"I just want to talk to her."

"Look, I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen here and now. I don't know who you might be working with and-"

"I'm not working with anybody!"

I approach them quickly, but though Emmett looks and sounds unmoving and stoic, I sense something almost like…compassion, like sympathy in the way he's looking at her.

"Believe me, I really wish I could let you through, but-"

"Emmett, it's okay, I'll talk to her."

When Rosalie turns around and sees me, she draws in a deep breath of relief.

We form a sort of triangle; Rose and I standing awkwardly while Emmett stands there with his huge arms across his chest, his eyes flitting between us.

"Emmett, give us a minute, yeah?"

His eyes keep moving between Rosalie and me, deliberating, appraising the situation.

"Please," Rosalie pleads his way.

"Emmett, most of the reporters are gone. It's alright," I assure him.

He looks between the both of us once more, narrowing his eyes curiously when they land on Rose, as if something about her dumbfounds him, and then begins to back up.

"We've got to get going soon, Bella. Edward _will_ come looking for you if we're not back in a few," he warns through a raised brow.

"Alright," I agree. "I'll be quick."

Emmett moves away a few feet before turning his back, guarding us. For a few seconds, Rose simply stares at his back, but then I clear my throat because the last thing I want is for Edward to appear here.

We both simply stare at each other for a couple of minutes, while I can see her measuring her words.

"Look, I've got to get going. Edward and I are taking Ellie for ice-cream before he leaves and-"

"I did see his press conference."

"Okay," I say, shrugging.

"Do you think…he would've done all that back then, Bella? Given all that up?"

I feel my irritation building, and sigh sharply. "I don't know, Rose. I won't ever know now, will I?"

Guilt fills her features. She looks down. "I'm not trying to start an argument with you, Bella. It's a question, one I've been asking myself every day since that conference, since…before the conference I suppose," she says in a shaky voice. "I was wondering if I could speak with you, with the both of you."

I swallow thickly. It's so hard to look at her, to realize how awkward we are around each other and remember how close we once were, to know that I trusted her with my life once and will never be able to trust her that way again.

"I'd have to get back to you. Edward is leaving tonight and he won't be back until next week-end, and I'm not sure if he's ready to speak to you - calmly at least. There's a lot of bullshit going on now as you might have noticed."

She nods. "I had some reporters approach me."

My eyes widen in alarm.

"I would _never_ speak to them, Bella. I hope you know at least that. Look, I know I…" – she sighs – "let me know, yeah? Whenever you're ready. Whenever…he's ready. Just let me know."

"Are you sure you want to put yourself through that? He's not going to have any kind words for you, Rose," I warn her, because despite everything, I can't not warn her.

She nods. I begin to turn and walk off.

"Bella," she calls out, "tell Ellie she did wonderful today."

I swallow past the dryness in my throat and nod without glancing back.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I'd say we have approximately eight or so chapters left, give or take a couple.**

**Thanks so much for continuing to review this story guys, for continuing to rec it, and to talk about it. It really means a lot to me that you've enjoyed it so much. Believe it or not, I've already got the next story started (in my head, LOL.)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page**.


	29. Chapter 29 Long-term vs Short-term

**A/N: As I said, we've got new posting dates – Mondays and Thursdays. It's Thursday! So, yeah…:)**

**Michelle Renker Rhodes is a beta-ing queen, lol.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 29 – Long-term vs. Short-term**

As expected, a few days later while Edward is in the U.S., the media breaks the story of the ongoing investigation of Carlisle Cullen's involvement with shady private investigator, Jay Jenks. The media is buzzing with the information that his son, Edward, is cooperating with the authorities regarding the possibility that Carlisle knew all along of his granddaughter's existence and abused his power at the time as a Congressman to have Jay Jenks track me and my daughter.

It only takes a small leap from there for the media to wonder of President Martin's and Tanya Martin's possible involvement.

Emmett and his team usher Ellie and I as well as my mum and Alice, back and forth from everywhere we need to go. Even Rosalie has been approached, though she's refused to give any comments, for which I'm extremely grateful. Good or bad, the less we say, the better.

Edward and I speak on the phone every day, about what's going on, about Ellie.

"I miss you, Bella."

His words make my heart jump both with careful joy and fading apprehension. Once I gave myself to him so quickly, and it was exhilarating – but non-lasting. We'll take is slow, and maybe when we get there, it'll be something that can withstand much more. I think he understands, though, that my mouth still can't quite form the words, because he doesn't wait for a response.

"I should be there early Saturday," he murmurs quietly.

"Okay."

"Give our daughter a hug and a kiss from me."

"I will."

I know the words on the tip of his tongue now. I can feel them.

"I'll see you soon, Bella."

I smile because those weren't it, but I suppose he does know me in a way.

"Yes, Edward. I'll see you soon."

OOOOOOOOOO

Michael calls me Thursday evening. I've seen him on the telly, refusing to comment, but we haven't spoken since this entire circus began a couple of weeks ago. He said he'd be in touch about my job, and I haven't wanted to rush him. So when he asks me to meet him in London the following afternoon, I agree.

I come down the stairs Friday afternoon in a work outfit I haven't worn in a couple of weeks. Staying home and only heading to town for the market or to Ellie's games hasn't exactly required business clothing. I'm wearing white, fitted blouse tucked inside my upper knee-length navy blue pencil skirt. On my feet I've got a pair of matching blue, patent leather heels. My hair is worn half up-half down. As I take the last step, I realize how good it feels to dress up for work once more. I remember when I first started working in London; Rose and I were ecstatic about getting me a new wardrobe. We put our money together and went on as much of a shopping spree as we could afford in _Next_ and _Topman_ – which wasn't much. I snort to myself; all that feels like ages ago.

Emmett lets out a low whistle when I reach the bottom step; he grins appreciatively.

"Where are we off to?"

"_I_ have a meeting in London."

He shakes his head, grinning with only slightly mock reproach. "You've got to tell me these things in advance, Bella, so that I can plan ahead." He puts a hand up to his ear and speaks into an unseen mic:

"I'm escorting Isabella into London. Seth, you're in charge here." He nods and looks at me again. "Are you ready?"

"Emmett, this really isn't necessary."

"Yeah, Bella, it is."

He's grinning, but he's not backing down either. I'm already running a bit late, so with a roll of my eyes, I lead the way out.

OOOOOOOOOO

Emmett remains outside once we arrive at the restaurant. Michael and I are meeting at a steak house he owns in Covent Garden. The wait list is usually months long, and the prices are outrageous, but the service and food are absolutely brilliant. The hostess greets me and leads me through the dark, main dining room, past the baby grand where a woman in a tuxedo plays a soft, soothing piece that rises above the sounds of forks and knives clattering and the din of dozens of voices at once.

Michael stands, adjusting the button on his grey suit jacket when he sees me approaching, and grins my way. When I reach him, he kisses my cheek before pulling my chair out for me.

"You look beautiful, Isabella."

Michael has always greeted me this way, but I recognize that look in his eyes, and suddenly, I feel uncomfortable. How had I forgotten about this side of our relationship? And now…with Edward and I and this tentative relationship we're trying to build…

I suddenly realize that there's another reason for this meeting; I have to make sure that Michael knows that side of our relationship cannot continue because regardless of whether Edward and I work out, this thing with Michael just doesn't feel right anymore.

But for now, I simply thank him for his compliment. "You're a sight for sore eyes yourself," I tell him honestly, because though he is a good-looking bloke, he's also a good friend, and I need one of those right now.

The waitress comes and takes our drink orders, and then we're left alone. I look around and realize that he's gotten us a table far in the back where the rest of the patrons would have to purposely turn back to get a look at us. Not that this is the sort of clientele that comes here to snoop; they're too busy digging into their thousand dollar steaks. I'm grateful for the privacy.

We make small talk, which is strange because Michael has always been the type to get straight to the point. This feels awkward, skirting around something other than the obvious events of the past week and a half. I've got the distinct feeling that I'm about to be officially let go.

When our drinks come though, Michael finally dives right into it.

"Isabella, first I want to make it clear that I haven't decided what's going to happen with your position. I want to see how something plays out first."

"Okay," I say slowly. "What exactly is playing out?"

"Before I make it public tomorrow, I wanted to let you know that the article you wrote on the Congressman will be featured in next week's ERA issue."

I choke on the sip of wine I was just taking. "What?"

"I've decided to see what the public makes of it," he grins.

"Michael, before you continue with that idea, I feel it's my responsibility to give you my honest opinion."

He watches me through amused eyes. "Go ahead then."

"In the short run, sales of the issue will probably go through the roof, but in the long run, if the public decides that the article was doctored or altered in any way after this incident simply for this release, it could hurt the magazine's reputation and the readers trust in the source; therefore long-term sales could be damaged."

He watches me silently for a while before saying, "Yes, that's exactly what the sales teams told me."

I stare at him, bewildered. "Then why would you do it?"

He holds my gaze before placing a hand over mine.

"Why would I do it, Isabella?" he echoes.

"Yes. Why?"

A long moment transpires in which the air suddenly feels thick with unexplained tension. Michael doesn't even blink, but then he smirks. "I like taking risks. You know this about me."

"This is a dangerous risk, Michael. If the magazine were more established, if we'd had time to get it to where we wanted it to be, then perhaps this would make more sense, but-"

He moves in closer. "I don't like what the Brit tabloids are saying about you, implying that Cullen is just a lovesick puppy and therefore blind to your true shortfalls; that you actually _were_ planning on exposing him in the magazine."

I place my other hand over his gratefully.

"Michael, you and I both know how the tabloids operate. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't want you risking the magazine's reputation. The reorganization is still too new. Besides, I'm less concerned about what the tabloids here are saying than what's going on in the U.S. Over there, they seem to be keeping things more in perspective. I suppose because in the end, this mess affects them more. I'm confident the talk in the tabloids here will soon die down."

He quirks an eyebrow. "I appreciate your advice, but I think I'll pass on it."

I suck my teeth in frustration, shaking my head. "This makes no sense."

"Are you seriously trying to convince me to fire you?" he chuckles.

I smile in chagrin. "No, Michael, I'd rather not lose my job this way, but the truth is you'll be taking a huge risk otherwise."

"I didn't get to where I am by playing it careful."

"No," I smirk, "I suppose you didn't." I pull one of my hands away, but my other one is still trapped under his. I try one more time to make him see sense because that's part of my job – or at least it used to be. He has the most brilliant business mind I've ever encountered, but he can also be your typical impulsive billionaire: impetuous, risky and whimsical.

"I still think this makes no sense."

"Isabella, don't you see?" he says, gazing at me in amusement once more, as if he's privy to something that I'm not. "I mean, do you really not see?"

I furrow my brows, irritated at the fact that I'm at a total loss. He's right; I feel as if there's something here I'm not seeing that I definitely should be.

"For someone so intelligent," he mutters before leaning in closer. "Isabella, I'm in love with you."

I think I actually here an audible thump as my jaw hits the table. I quickly back away, releasing his hand.

He chuckles again. "You really didn't see, did you?"

"I…I…" I swallow thickly.

"Isabella, I'm not doing this solely because of how I feel about you, but because my gut instinct tells me it's right. You know I like working from my gut. You know so much about me. How could you possibly not see _this_?" he muses.

I blink profusely, but other than that, remain frozen.

"Look, I don't want you to feel obligated in any way. You asked me why I was doing this; I'm simply being honest with you, laying all my cards on the table since you obviously haven't seen on your own."

"Michael…I…I don't even know what to say…"

"Are you in love with Cullen?"

I blink some more, feeling the flush in my face. "I…he was…I mean, he is…"

"Yes, you are." He grins and then releases one long breath. "The past couple of years, you and I have had this relationship, and it's been great, Isabella, but I could see the wall you had up, the way you never let yourself really _feel_. And I was willing to wait, Isabella. I mean, we worked together, spent time in and out of the office together, and it was good the way it was. I figured one day you'd realize…but now," he chuckles. "The father of your child is back in the picture and I can see in your eyes that he's more than just that. He's the one; the one who made you put up all those walls in the first place."

"Michael…I had no idea. I thought we were both on the same…I mean, I've always considered you a great friend, a mentor…"

He grins. "Isabella, sweetheart, don't feel guilty here. As you said yourself a minute ago, I'm a businessman above all. I know when something is worth the risk, and when it's not. And you are worth the risk."

I shake my head, looking down at my wine glass, dazed. "Michael, please don't do this."

He leans in. "Isabella, all I'm doing," he stresses, "is letting you know that I'm an option if _you_ want to take that risk. Nothing else here is changing. I'm publishing the article because at the end of the day, I think it's a good business risk. The issue _will_ sell. The type of public we'll attract, in my opinion, will remain even after this issue. I've read your article. It's an honest view of Cullen's political world, of his strengths and weaknesses. You don't hold back – well, except for the whole he's your baby daddy business," he smirks. "I think the public will see that and appreciate the honesty of the magazine. As for you," he smiles, "like I said, I'm holding off on making a decision about your job, and I hope you know me well enough to know that is has nothing to do with the feelings I've just expressed and whether or not you'd reciprocate them."

I nod. "Of course, Michael. I know you wouldn't do that."

"Again, it's simply a business decision. Despite my hopes and beliefs on what publishing this article will accomplish, I still want to make sure that you don't become a liability for ERA."

"I understand," I say, because I do. It's about the only thing I understand of what he's told me right now.

"Good girl."

I stare at him, at a total loss as to what to say.

"Don't look at me that way. I'm not going to go home and cry into my pillow, Isabella. Again, you know me better than that. That's simply not the type of man I am. I just wanted you to know. You know my views on competition and how it drives the market, and maybe if you know that there is competition out there, you'll keep your options open. I mean, that was a great speech the congressman gave a couple of weeks ago; I've got to give him that, but he's brought down a hell of a lot on himself now, and if it becomes too much for either him or you to deal with, you do have options, Isabella. I simply want you to know that."

For several seconds, I have no idea what to say. "I…appreciate your sentiments, Michael, but Edward and I…we're…I mean, we're taking things slowly, but we _are_ trying to make things work. The relationship you and I had, it has to change now…"

He nods and moves close once more. "I understand, and if that's what you want, then Isabella, I truly wish you the best, but always remember your options."

"That's kind of a defeatist way to go into something though, isn't it?" I smile ruefully. "To go in with your other options on the back of your mind?"

"I don't want to be on the back of anyone's mind," he chuckles, backing away again. "I'd rather be at the forefront. Give it your all, Isabella, the way you've always done with everything. That's why I've trusted you as my right hand woman. But don't _forget,_ I'm your friend. How's that?"

I chuckle. "That's better, I suppose. I won't forget, Michael. Thank you for being a friend."

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm in silent thought throughout the entire drive back to Leigh, staring out the window as the scenery changes from urban London landscape to the quiet roads of Essex.

"Everything okay?" Emmett questions, navigating as if he's lived in this part of the U.K. his entire life.

I shrug. "I feel as if everything I've believed over the past few years has been…a huge misunderstanding." I snort. "How the hell have I gotten everything so wrong?"

"You're human," he says matter-of-factly. "We get shit wrong all the time. It's our job," he snickers. "Don't ask yourself how you got it wrong. Ask yourself how you'll set it right. That right there is the real question."

I turn my head his way. He gives me a sideways glance and grins impishly.

"Emmett, why did you leave the FBI?"

He smirks. "I couldn't deal with all that bureaucratic bull. So not for me. I leave that all that shit to Edward." He laughs that contagious laugh that makes me join in.

Maybe he's right. I must've gotten some things right at some point if I'm here now.

OOOOOOOOOO

My mum opens the door just as I'm putting the key in the lock. She's got a huge grin on her face, like she just won the lottery.

"What is it?" I ask, walking inside while Emmett remains outside talking to his guys.

When she moves away, my heart catches in my throat.

Edward is sitting in our living room, with Elizabeth happily on his lap.

"Mummy, look, Daddy came home early!"

I can't stop the huge grin that erupts on my face as well, or the way my heart starts beating double-time. He's got on a pair of faded denims and a black tee shirt that fits tightly around his biceps and abs, and he obviously hasn't shaved in over twenty-four hours with the dark bits of fuzz growing over his cheeks and sharp jaw. My pulse races as I take him in. Edward looks brilliant clean-shaven and in a custom suit, but like this, in loose jeans and fitted tee shirt, all handsomely rugged…he reminds me of the soldier on leave I met in that pub seven years ago, and I feel a tingling way down at the very bottom of my stomach, similar to the one I felt when he took his shirt off while playing football with Ellie a couple of weeks ago.

I can't help staring, and though he smiles back, there's something dark swirling in his emerald gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back early?"

He holds my gaze, narrowing his eyes infinitesimally. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull it off, and I didn't want…_Elizabeth_," he stresses, "to be disappointed if I couldn't make it." There's a strange edge to his voice. His eyes slowly roam up and down my entire frame before he turns away and sets his sights back on our daughter.

Ellie is thrilled to have her father back to her a day early, and monopolizes his attention for over an hour. When it gets late, I remind her that it's bedtime and that she can see her father tomorrow.

"Daddy, why do you leave every night? Why don't you sleep here with the rest of us?"

"Ellie, darling, there's no room for Daddy to sleep here."

"But why not? He can sleep with me and you, Mummy. Don't daddies always sleep with mummies?"

The entire room is silent.

I'm about to suggest that Edward stay on the sleeper sofa Emmett has been using, and Emmett can stay in the flat he's leased, but Edward speaks up first.

"Elizabeth, I'll be back before you wake tomorrow. You won't even know I'm gone."

She pouts, but doesn't argue, which is a sign of how tired she really is.

"Daddy, can you tuck me in?"

"Ellie, why don't you let your old Nan tuck you in?" my mum says. "Goodness, you're giving your Dad so much love lately I'm starting to feel jealous. You used to love it when Nan tucked you in!" she teases her.

Ellie giggles. "I still like it when you tuck me in, Nanny."

"Well you've got to prove it then. Let's go." She leads Ellie up the stairs.

As soon as Ellie and her excitement and exuberance leave, it's not difficult to determine that something is bothering Edward. He glares straight ahead, jaw squared tightly.

"You look…very beautiful tonight, Bella."

It sounds more like an accusation than a compliment, so I don't respond. Besides, he's barely given me a second glance since he walked in. Even now he's not looking at me so I'm not even sure how he'd know what I look like tonight.

"How did your afternoon in London go?"

"It went well, thank you."

He finally turns his gaze to me. His eyes are as cool as his tone. "You met with Michael?"

"Yes," I frown. "How did you know that?"

"And what happened?"

I don't appreciate the way he ignores my question. "How did you know I was meeting with Michael?" I repeat.

"Seth and Paul told me and before you get upset, don't worry," he adds dryly, "your every move isn't being reported to me. I simply wondered where you were and for security reasons, Emmett lets them know yours and his location."

His words as well as the sardonic tone of his voice raise my hackles. This isn't the Edward I've known for the past few weeks; this is the one I used to see on television, in the papers - the one with the mask.

"So what happened?" he repeats.

"Michael wanted to meet with me to let me know that the magazine will be running the article I wrote on you as its main feature next week." My voice is as icy as his.

Edward nods. For the first time in a long while, I can't read his expression, and it irritates the hell out of me.

"What do you think of that?" I ask after a couple of minutes with no comment from him.

"I think it's a smart business move. And I think it would help with all the bull the tabloids here are saying about you."

"It would probably be good for the magazine and for me as well in the short-term, but I'm not so sure about the long-term."

He stares at me.

"What?" I snap.

"What else did you talk about?"

"We talked about…" – I consider telling him of Michael's declaration of love, but his intense gaze makes me hesitate - "…we talked about you, about what's been going on, about how it affects the company."

He nods stiffly once more, still holding me locked in his steady gaze. I shift uncomfortably. In that moment, I remember that he's an attorney, because this feels like an interrogation.

"Is that it? Did you speak about anything else?"

"What exactly are you asking me, Edward?"

He steady gaze turns into a full-on glare. "Before we go on, I want to apologize once again for what I said to you in that restaurant in New York a few weeks back. It was never what I thought of you, Bella, I swear it, but I've _got_ to know. I know that you and Michael had more than just a…friendship. Is it still more than that?"

My nostrils flare. "Yes, it was more than just a friendship, but no, it isn't anymore."

He nods yet again, and for a split second the mask he has up appears to falter, but when I blink, it's still completely there, and I hate that mask with a burning passion.

"If this is how this is going to work, Edward, if you're going to hide behind that mask every time something gets uncomfortable between us…"

His expression doesn't change. I feel my blood boiling.

"You want me to trust, to be open with you, yet you can't do the same with me!"

I stand up and storm off towards the kitchen, but then my arms gets yanked-

-and Edward pulls me down over his lap and crashes his mouth to mine.

"Sto-" I start to protest, but on the vowel his tongue slides smoothly into my mouth and all my protests die away. He cradles my face between his hands and between that and his kiss and the way his warm body contorts to mine, I'm lost. I'm that nineteen-year-old girl once more, sitting on the lap of the bloke who looks at me the way no one has ever looked at me before. Whose mouth and touch take me to a place where nothing else matters. We might as well be in that tiny, little island in Mile End Park again where he had all the power and I would've followed him to the ends of the world and back.

Yet I know this isn't what we should be doing, this isn't how we should be resolving our differences, but my body is on autopilot. I nestle into him, closer, wrapping my arms around his neck tightly, inhaling his scent and when he groans my name into my mouth…

"_Bella…"_

I'm undone.

The desire thick in his voice does away with any shred of control I may have had left. I lift myself up on my knees and straddle him, one leg on either side of his thighs. My skirt rides up over my own thighs, higher and higher until I feel him, right there, the only things separating us are the thin material of my stockings and his trousers.

"_God…Bella…"_

Our tongues tangle together wildly while our hips thrust against each other, instinctively seeking friction. I pound into him unapologetically, his cock so hard it's almost painful against me and when it hits the right spot I let out a quiet whimper. All the while in the back of my mind I know this isn't taking it slowly, this isn't how we should be going about things. I know we were in the middle of an argument and that something is strangely reminiscent about what's just occurred. Even worse, I _know_ our daughter and my mum are right upstairs, but his hands are gripping and molding to my backside while he pushes himself against me and sucks my tongue into his mouth…it consumes me, Jesus, I'm swimming in an ocean of raw need while we writhe and rock against one another. I arch my back, throwing my head back to push in deeper and feel the heat of his mouth on my breast, over my blouse. He closes his lips over the tip of my breast, sucking on the nipple through the thin material.

"_Oh_," I whimper again. Heat builds quickly in the pit of my stomach, down my thighs, settling where we're practically joined except for two thin pieces of clothing. I remember what it felt like to have him moving inside me, thrusting in and out, over and over; beads of sweat forming on his brow and along the length of his spine. I'm wetter by the second and the moisture helps me slide against him even better.

I capture his mouth with mine again. Perhaps if we're quick about it…I can reach down and undo his fly and rip a hole in my stockings…I want him inside; it's all I can think of…I want him inside me…I want him filling me to the core…hard…fast…

"Bella…" – he breathes urgently into my mouth, muffled words I have trouble understanding – "Bella, wait. Bella…"

When he breaks our kiss, I gaze at him in confusion, panting wildly, his chest heaving madly under mine.

"Bella, this isn't taking it slow."

I try desperately to make sense of his words, but my mind isn't focusing.

"Bella, baby, I want this more than anything in the world. God, you have no idea how much I want you, but I want it to work this time. I want this long-term, not short-term. I _won't_ mess this up, Bella. I won't give you any more regrets."

I'm still panting, unable to speak. But though I'm speechless, the fog is lifting from my lust-addled mind, and I can understand now and see what almost happened, and he's right. I would've definitely regretted this. The moment I came I would've hated myself for once more giving in to him so quickly.

It's like a cold bucket of water tossed at me. Eyes wide on him, I start to climb off, but he holds my waist securely.

"Don't," he pleads in a whisper. "Don't close yourself off now."

I can't move. Edward picks me up and places me sideways on his lap. Then with tender but firm hands, he guides my head down to the space under his jaw. I lay stiffly at first, but he runs his hand down the length of my hair, straightens out my skirt with the other, kisses my temple. My heart rate begins to regulate and my breathing slows, and little by little I feel myself relaxing.

"Bella…"

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, my pulse almost back to normal. His hand smoothes slowly up and down my leg while with the other he keeps playing with my hair.

"Thank you…for thinking for the both of us just now, but Edward, we can't go down this road again. You can't kiss me until I forget our issues."

He's quiet for a while. I feel his heart beating under mine. "Is that what I do?"

"Yes, it is," I say markedly, keeping my head down. "It's what you did then. I remember, Edward. I didn't see it then, but yes, every time I had a question you didn't want to answer, you'd distract me. It can't happen that way this time, Edward, or you and I will not work out in the long-run."

More silence.

"It's just…I know I have no right to what I'm feeling."

"Whether you have a right to it or not, tell me what it is."

He draws in a deep breath. I rise and fall along with his chest. And just when I think he's not going to speak, he drops his head and murmurs in my ear.

"It's…difficult for me, to know you had a relationship with Michael…and to know that even if that relationship is over, you'll still have _some_ sort of relationship with him, to be grateful that he's trying to help you, yet wanting to kick his ass for it, to know that Jake shared time with you and our daughter that should've been mine-"

"You're being more than a bit of a hypocrite, aren't you?" I cut him off hotly, pulling away from him. I hold his gaze angrily. "I won't apologize for my relationships. I had to watch you marry someone else, then I got to see picture after picture of you with your model of the moment, and the last time I saw you and Tanya together, you both seemed pretty friendly. And none of that had anything to do with who lied to us or kept us apart, so I won't apologize for having a life, Edward, while you were trying to figure out what exactly you wanted from yours-"

He grabs my face in his hands, keeping me from lifting myself completely off of him. "Listen to me, I _know_ it's hypocritical," he says fiercely. "That's why I didn't want to voice it aloud. I know how fucked up it is, and I'm not asking for any sort of apology, Bella. You just asked me to tell you what I was feeling whether I had a right to those feelings or not, and that's what I'm doing. I'm trying to be open with you. I _know_ I have absolutely no right to feel so damned…jealous; in my head I know this, but in my heart, damn it, Bella, in my heart I wish you would've only ever been mine, and I _know_ how hypocritical that is and I hate myself because of it."

He holds me locked in his gaze, and after a few seconds, I let go of the breath I'd been holding throughout his speech.

"I can understand jealousy, Edward. I can understand you wishing no one else would've ever touched me after you because _I_ felt that every time I saw you with Tanya," - he cringes and closes his eyes for a second before opening them back up, forcing himself to hold my gaze – "but that's not how it worked out, and neither one of us has a right to reproach the other at this point."

"I know." He snorts. "I'm not reproaching you, Bella. I'm letting you know how I feel. You're right, I've got to stop holding things back from you, but you've got to try to stop being so defensive against me."

I close my eyes, sighing deeply. When I reopen them, I agree with a nod.

He gives me a faint smile and slowly guides my head back to his chest.

"The first time you and I were together, Bella," he breathes wistfully after a few minutes, "I should've been more…mindful of the fact that you were a virgin."

I snort. "You didn't twist my arm, Edward."

He chuckles lightly. "Still, you were…so innocent, so trusting, and I took advantage of that."

I pick my head up again and meet his eyes. "Stop, Edward. I won't deny that it was all very overwhelming at the time, but I can't allow myself to regret it because had it been any different, we wouldn't have Ellie."

He fills his lungs again, letting out the air in one, long gust. "You're right."

"My…pain…my regrets are from how we handled things afterwards." When he opens his mouth to say something, I cover it with one finger because I already know what's coming. "And I know you're sorry about that. I do know it, and so am I. That weekend was beautiful, Edward. It's what happened in those last moments and afterwards that we have to get past."

I lower my head back down, while he continues stroking my leg, placing soft kisses on top of my head.

"That night at the fundraiser…I acted like an animal in that restroom. I was just…so overwhelmed by seeing you again. And when I kissed you, and you responded-"

"Yes, I can't let you take all the blame for that either, I suppose. I did sort of lead it in that direction," I grin sheepishly.

He nudges my head back up with his shoulder and then grips it between his hands once more.

"The things I said I missed about you, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't missed them, but those weren't the main things."

I smirk.

"I'm serious," he says solemnly. "It was the heat of the moment that made me say those things. _This_, Bella, _this_ is what I missed every single day of my life since the day I met you. Holding you like this, talking to you, feeling that connection that I'd only ever felt with you, that I've only ever felt for you."

I feel tears sting the corners of my eyes because those are the very things I hadn't allowed myself to think of for seven years: the feel of his arms around me, the easy way we spoke to each other that weekend, that connection, like I'd found a part of me I hadn't even known had been missing and then it was all cruelly taken away from me after one short weekend.

The connection, the heat, the passion, it's all still there. The question is, can we learn to talk to each other again without letting our past taint our future?

I lower my head to his shoulder again before he can see the tears welling.

"I will try my _hardest_ to keep that mask off my face with you, Bella," he whispers vehemently. "I want us to have that openness again. I need your trust back. I'll do anything to make this work, but…I _won't_ share you or your affection, Bella."

Images of he and Tanya on the television, or he and Irina in the papers invade my mind. I want to lash out at him for them, for all of them. For watching him smile brightly in his dark tuxedo while I was giving birth, for watching him hold _her_ hand while I graduated, for watching him with his buxom blonde while Ellie lay sick in the hospital, for watching him out with Irina on Ellie's sixth birthday.

But he was lied to as much as I was, and he made his mistakes as much as I did, and at some point the reproaches have to stop.

So I push all those images away, take a deep breath and release it through narrowed lips, and I'm no longer there, watching him. I'm here, resting on his chest while he waits for my answer.

I nod. "I don't expect you to share me, but that does go both ways."

"I know." He kisses my head. "Believe me, you'll never have to share me - _ever_."

OOOOOOOOOO

The next thing I know, I wake in the middle of the night in my bedroom, the one I share with Ellie. She's sleeping soundly next to me, her small chest rising and falling with long, steady breaths. I lie there gazing at her for a long while, and it's almost like I'm gazing at a younger, innocent version of her father. It used to make my chest ache sometimes, the striking similarities between the both of them. But now…now it makes me smile.

I hear my phone vibrate from the nightstand, and when I pick it up, I have two new texts.

The first is from Michael:

**Just a reminder, Isabella: Give it your all, but don't forget, I'm your friend. **

The next one is from Edward:

**I'm downstairs. If you or Elizabeth need me, I'll be right here. Always.**

OOOOOOOOOO

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

****I had the song, "**_**Just Give Me a Reason**_**," by Pink in my head throughout this chapter.****

**Thanks for continuing to read and review guys. It really means a lot to hear from you all. **

**For a visual of what "Michael" in this story looks like, go take a look at my facebook page. The link is in my profile. I think you'll be presently surprised by this "Michael." We sure had a good time comparing him to Edward yesterday. Take a look. :)**

**CLARIFICATION: Last update I mentioned there were only about 8 chapters left, emphasis on the "about." That could be give or take a couple of chapters, and for those of you who know me, you know it's more likely give. :) Also, I was estimating based on the chapter I had written up to, which is Ch. 31, so basically we're looking at somewhere in the vicinity of ABOUT 40 chapters, plus a couple of outtakes from Edward's POV of Chapters 1 and 3.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**And like I said, link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page. :)**


	30. Chapter 30 - Quid Pro Quo

**A/N: I heard back from many of you that you enjoy the new Monday posting schedule. I'll try to brighten your dreary Mondays up at least a little. :)**

**And yeah, as happens more times than I'd like to admit, I goofed last chapter. Many of my lovely Brits pointed out that the clothing shop Bella went to purchase much of her clothes should've been Top Shop as opposed to Topman. Sorry! **

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Ch. 30 – Quid Pro Quo**

The next week goes by quickly.

True to his word, Michael publishes my article in the magazine – the infamous article in which Isabella Swan supposedly planned to expose Edward Cullen as the father of her six-year-old daughter. It's a huge controversy – which, we were expecting, and which of course drives the issue's sales up exponentially.

Both Edward and Michael, though in very separate instances, make brief statements in which they assure the public that the version which appears in the magazine is exactly the version they both received beforehand.

The morning talk shows dissect the article word for word. It's found to be a very good piece of writing: insightful, clear, with a true take on what politics are really like behind the scenes, the deals that must be made that border on unethical but without which nothing would ever get done. Throughout it all, Congressman Cullen strives to remain behind the correct line of ethics, and because he possesses some inborn charisma, some charm that makes it hard for anyone to say no to him, he manages to do so and still move things along. But contrary to what had become popular belief, the article contains no mention of a personal relationship between the Congressman and myself at any point - not even a hint of it.

Michael calls and tells me that he wants to wait and see what the fallout after the publication is before he makes a decision on whether I may keep my job at ERA, and though it may seem to be a calculated move, Michael didn't build his empire by feeling sorry for his friends. I understand and respect that. Besides, for the past few days, this hiatus from work has seemed more like a blessing than anything else. Though I miss my job, I don't know if I can face Michael right now, not so soon after his revelation last week. We were once lovers as well as co-workers and while I thought we were both clear on the limits to both sides of our relationship, apparently I was mistaken - once again. I need time to process what it all means for our friendship as well as for my job – if I do end up getting it back.

Edward makes a couple more trips back and forth from the U.S. to the U.K. He's extremely busy back home with his normal responsibilities as well as with the fallout from the press conference. There's talk of a possible congressional investigation. While Carlisle makes no comments to the media regarding his involvement in "Babygate," as it is being dubbed in the U.S, the fact is that if evidence is found that Carlisle used his power as a Congressman to hire a PI and then had that PI keep tabs on Ellie and I, he _will_ have to answer for that.

In addition to Carlisle's woes, all of the controversy is negatively affecting President Martin's re-election bid. Numbers that once practically assured him a re-election are dwindling as the public is beginning to wonder how much President Martin knew and when he knew it. There is no talk in Congress or the Senate of an official investigation being launched into the President's involvement, but the public refuses to drop the issue.

So with all this, Edward is for once, visibly tired on his latest trip to Leigh. He doesn't let it affect his interactions with his daughter though – or with me.

OOOOOOOOOO

Though we're expecting her, it takes me a full minute to open the door. I know she's been standing outside, hesitating, waiting for about five minutes. I've been watching her through the window. The reporters are being kept off our property by Emmett and his friends, but they're not far. When I finally manage to open the door, she looks distressed and apprehensive, as if she's about to walk into a lion's den – which with the mood Edward is in after his delayed flight this afternoon, she may very well be. Despite everything, the nervousness in her demeanor guts me.

"Bella," Rosalie says shakily, and then with obvious wariness moves her eyes to where Edward stands next to me.

"Thank you…for coming," I murmur.

"I'm glad you called," she says.

I can feel the tension in Edward's frame, see the stiffness in the set of his shoulders. Eyes that have been so warm for the past couple of weeks are now cold and angry.

"Come in, Rose," I say, and as she walks by us, Edward sneers down at her, following her in.

I turn and catch Emmett's gaze across the street and gesture with my head for him to come in.

It's not that I think Edward would ever hit a woman, but I do think he would yell - very loudly. Ellie is asleep upstairs, and I want to make sure she remains that way through this.

"Would you mind helping me keep Edward calm?" I whisper to Emmett as we walk into the kitchen.

He snorts as if he's not surprised by my request. "'Course not. 'Keep Edward calm' is my middle name."

We gather around the kitchen table: Edward and I on one side, Rose on the other. Emmett stands behind Edward and me.

"Rose, I don't know if you've been introduced properly. This is Edward's friend, Emmett."

"Nice to meet you," she smiles.

"I think I remember you from the pub," Emmett says in a light, easy tone.

"Does anyone fancy a cup of tea?"

"Enough with the intros and catching up on old times and goddamn tea. That's not why we're here." Edward leans into the table, nostrils flaring. "Why did you lie to me? Why did you tell me Bella left with Tyler?"

He's not wasting any time it seems. Well, I did warn her.

Rose's eyes narrow his way, and she leans in too. "You broke her bloody heart," she accuses, her voice shaking. "You took and took from her that weekend, and then at the end of it, decided to inform her that you were engaged and had other responsibilities. She was a virgin when she met you, yet you treated her like a common whore." Edward's eyes flinch for a split second, but then his furious expression returns. "Then when she called your father, he told her you'd chosen your path a long time ago and would never waver from it!"

"My father said that, not me! And _none_ of that gave you the right to lie to me when I came back for her," he hisses. "You didn't know me!"

"But Bella told me-"

"I don't give a damn what Bella told you! _You_ did not know me! I don't care if Bella described every last second of that weekend to you in minute detail, you weren't there! You didn't know what I was thinking or what I was feeling! You had no right to lie to me!"

His voice rises with every sentence. When he quickly stands up, glaring down at Rose, I put a hand on his forearm.

"Edward, Ellie is upstairs sleeping," I remind him.

He glares at me and sits back down, running a hand through his hair.

"What was I supposed to believe?" Rose insists. "No, I wasn't there with you and Bella, but you weren't there to see the aftermath of what you did! You didn't watch her cry herself to sleep night after night over you!"

"Rose-" I interject.

"No, Bella! He should know what happened!"

Edward cringes, shutting his eyes tight, but when he reopens them, they're still full of fury. It doesn't stop Rose, though.

"You weren't there when she was working herself to the bone trying to stay distracted, so she wouldn't think of you. She stressed herself out so much she ended up in the hospital in danger of giving birth too bloody early!"

Edward's eyes widen and he reels back. He looks to me. "You were in the hospital before our daughter was born?"

I nod slowly.

"When she was six months pregnant, she had pre-term contractions the doctors called it, caused by too much stress. That was when you came back," Rose sobs. "What was I supposed to do, lead you right to her, so she could possibly lose the baby if you left her again?"

Edward's expression floods with guilt, it fills every crevice of his features, every line on his forehead, the color of his eyes, the way he exhales slowly through narrowed lips - all mark the shame he's feeling.

"That's why Elizabeth was born early," he murmurs mostly to himself.

He closes his eyes again, taking uneven inhalations as he struggles to regulate his breathing, but none of it erases the remorse etched hard in his features.

I'm about to reach out to him, though I don't even know what to say to erase the clear agony he's in, but he suddenly reopens his eyes.

"I could've been there for her," he whispers vehemently, eyes more furious than ever, "If you would've told me, I could've been there for her," he points out through clenched teeth.

"I saw your press conference." A tear rolls down Rose's cheek. "The man that spoke at that conference wasn't the same man who walked into the pub that day. There was no apology in that man's demeanor, no regret in his expression much less in his words. No part of you showed remorse when you sauntered into the pub that day. Put yourself in my shoes; if someone had hurt your best friend, your sister, to the very core, would you lead that person to your loved one so that he or she could hurt her again?"

He leans forward once more, eyes burning. "I didn't owe _you_ any apology," he hisses. "If you saw no apology in my expression, in my demeanor, it was because the person to whom I owed my remorse, my regret, my _heart_ wasn't you! Like I said, you didn't know me! How could you presume to know my feelings or my intentions? I would've dropped to my knees and apologized and begged if I would've found her! I would've stayed!"

"I had no way of knowing that!"

"YOU COULD'VE ASKED ME!"

"Edward," I place a firm hand on his shoulder while out of my periphery, I see Emmett take a step forward, ready to intervene if necessary.

"You could've asked me," Edward repeats in a rough, ragged whisper. "You could've said, 'look asshole, you hurt my friend and if you're just here to play games again, move the fuck along, but if you really care about her, then maybe I'll tell you where she is.' Then perhaps I would've shown you some of that apology, some of that remorse you think you had a right to see. But you just assumed! You assumed I was there to hurt her and never gave me a chance to prove otherwise! You helped to keep me away from my daughter, my _daughter_," he reiterates, digging a finger into his chest, "for six fucking years! I came back day after day for almost two weeks and you never gave me a chance!"

Rose sobs openly, and as always, her tears make me cry too because she's never cried easily.

"I thought…" - she chokes unevenly. "I thought…"

"All those years, Rose," I say shakily. "All those years that went by, and you never told me he'd come back. Fine, at first I was in the hospital. But how about afterwards, once the baby was born? You had six years to tell me!"

"I…I honestly didn't think there was any point afterwards. I didn't think he cared, Bella," she looks at me imploringly, "or else I wouldn't have kept it from you. You saw him on the telly and in the papers. First, you had to see him all smiles with his wife, while you struggled to make ends meet and finish school. We'd see him on the telly next to the President and his wife, looking so complacent, happy even. And then after his divorce, it was model after model that you watched him rub all over. He looked absolutely fine with his life."

More shame colors Edward's features, casting it in a red flush that crawls down his neck, even as far down as his arms. He drops his head, shaking it from side to side.

"Yes, I've made…lots of mistakes. I have." He picks his head up again, and though some of the burning fire has gone out of his eyes, he's clearly still bitter. "But I never owed _you_ an explanation for my failures; it was only Bella to whom I owed any apology, and you never gave me the chance to give her that."

For a long while, none of us speak as we try to wrap our head around so much confusion, misunderstandings and lies.

"I grew up wanting my father, Bella, you know that. I grew up knowing the pain of wanting a man in your life who didn't give a damn about anyone but himself. I wanted to spare Ellie that pain. I wanted to spare you that humiliation. I watched my mother drink herself to death over a man who never came back!"

"But _I_ came back!" Edward retaliates hotly. "That's the difference you don't seem to get here! I'm sorry if you had it rough, but I came back for Bella, and I would've stayed for her _and_ our daughter! You stole that from us," Edward insists. When she tries to look down, he forces himself into her line of vision. "Don't you see what you did? You claim you wanted to spare Elizabeth pain, but you ended up stealing from her! We will _never_ get that time back. I can see her every day for the rest of my life, spend every single second possible with her, yet I'll never know what it felt like when she kicked her mother's stomach from within; I'll never know what she looked like in the first hours of her life, I'll never know the expression on her face when she took her first steps, I'll never know," his voice cracks and I grip his arm, squeezing it tight because I can almost feel the tightening in his chest at the thought of never having those memories of our daughter, "I'll never know what it's like to hear her _try_ to call me 'Daddy' for the first time. She'll never know what it's like to have her father pick her up when she stumbles over her first steps, or to have her father there rooting for her at her very first soccer game. Those things you missed out on with your father, well you forced Elizabeth to miss out on them too. Yeah," he snorts," you saw me on television with other women, but you were watching a dead, empty shell of a man who had no idea that he was missing out on his daughter's birthdays, on her sick days, on her smiles and on her tears. Do you really think I would've ever chosen anything other than her and Bella?"

"I didn't know-"

"No, you didn't know," he interjects emphatically. "That's the whole point, Rosalie. You didn't know, yet you went ahead and made that call anyway."

"At the time, I…I didn't see it that way," she cries. "I just wanted to spare them the pain…and had I known…had I seen things the way I see them now…" – her hands shake as she brings them up to cradle her face in her hands - "I only wanted to protect them, and…I was so wrong, and I…I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeats over and over.

We're all silent; the only sounds are those of Rose's and my tears falling. Instinct tells me to go to her, to put my arms around her and hold her the way she held me so many times when I cried, when it hurt so much I wanted to rip my heart out to make the pain stop. But she didn't _tell_ me. Edward and I may have been able to raise our daughter together. Even if things between he and I hadn't worked out, so much of this could've been avoided if she would've just told me.

Yet at the same time, I can't ignore my own guilt in the mess. All the accusations Edward is throwing at Rose…yes, I was scared at first, but then I was simply angry, and I _let_ her perpetuate that anger, that hate.

I didn't have to listen to her.

"Look, I won't judge you the way you judged me." Edward's voice is still cool, but much more composed. "I don't know you well enough to know what was really in your heart. I suppose Bella might know that, but…I'm dealing with too much shit right now. Too many people lied and kept things from me, things that may have led me to Bella and our daughter sooner. I can't just say 'well, if you're really sorry, then it's okay.' It's _six years_ we're talking about, and nothing, no amount of apologies, will get us that time back. In the meantime, Bella and I are trying to deal with our issues, and one of the things we've spoken about is your relationship with our daughter. I suppose I understand why keeping Elizabeth away from you right now wouldn't be a good idea, but someday, Rosalie," – he scrubs a frustrated hand down his face and pauses – "someday Elizabeth _will_ be old enough to understand what happened, and it's from her that _all_ of us will have to seek an apology."

With that, he stands and walks out of the kitchen.

OOOOOOOOOO

Late that night, after Emmett has already escorted Rose back to her car to make sure the reporters stay away from her, Edward and I sit quietly side by side in the front room. Everyone else in the house is asleep. The telly is on in the background with the American news on replay.

"…_for the past couple of weeks, the U.S. has been reeling over the announcement that Congressman Edward Cullen, long considered a strong contender for the Presidency in a few years, has bowed out of the Senate race to focus on his daughter, who he recently discovered existed. The child's mother is Isabella Swan, an executive working for Newton Enterprises. Apparently, the two met while Mr. Cullen was in the service, and they had a love affair that resulted in the child. Different versions have arisen as to how Ms. Swan broke the news to Mr. Cullen, but it is becoming increasingly clear that the Congressman's own father, former Congressman Carlisle Cullen, was somehow involved in a cover-up that kept his son from knowing of his daughter. _

_In addition, the Martin Administration has been on the defensive for the past couple of weeks, after the Congressman's lightly veiled accusations. It's been a tough two weeks for his team, with rumors of a white house culture of cover-ups. The chairman of the House, Ways and Means Committee was quoted this week as saying that 'the truth has been hidden just long enough to make it through an election.' President Martin himself has been quiet on the matter, even though the child would have been conceived while the Congressman was engaged to his daughter. Ms. Martin-Cullen has also had no comment while questions are now arising as to whether anyone in the Martin administration was ever aware of this fact, and if so, how and why it would've been kept quiet. Speculation has arisen about the damage this news would've had to a family legacy that had almost assured Congressman Edward Cullen a bid at the White House in a few years, alongside a marriage that when it existed assured current President Aro Martin a continued role and influence in the way the U.S. government would be run for the foreseeable future._

_With the American elections just a few months away, one thing is clear, the Martin Administration does not want this scandal to grow and somehow threaten what, until a few days ago, was an almost assured re-election for the President. If there is one thing that is sure about what has now been dubbed 'Babygate' in political circles, it's that whether he ever runs for President or not, Congressman Edward Cullen has proven that he does indeed have the authority to strike fear into the heart of the bureaucrats and elected officials alike._

_As for Isabella Swan, sources tell us that Newton Enterprises has put her on paid leave for the time being. Best guesses are that Michael Newton, CEO of the conglomerate and good friend of Ms. Swan, is waiting to see how the controversy surrounding the release of __ERA Magazine's__ latest issue, which featured as its main story a piece entirely written by Ms. Swan on the Congressman, plays out before making a decision on whether to bring one of his top executives back into the fold, or to let her go. _

_Finally, little Elizabeth Swan is the child at the heart of this entire scandal. Again, sources tell us that Congressman Cullen has already filed the necessary paperwork to change the child's last name to his own. From the few pictures the media has been able to obtain of her, she obviously shares a striking resemblance to her father, as well as to her paternal grandmother, the late Elizabeth Masen-Cullen. Whether she inherited her father's charisma, that inherent call to the masses, remains to be seen._

_In other news…"_

I turn the television off.

Edward sighs and reaches over, pulling me into his side. We sit in silent contemplation.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I draw in a deep breath and sigh, nodding. "I'll be alright."

He rests his head over mine. I feel his jaw ghosting back and forth over the top of my head.

"Bella…once, after my divorce, Emmett offered to try to find you…"

I stiffen next to him. "So what happened?"

He doesn't respond right away. "I was too much of a coward to face what I thought I'd find; you happily married, perhaps with children. I figured that since you knew exactly who and where I was you would've contacted me at some point throughout the years if you'd wanted to see me. The fact that you hadn't was just proof to me that you had really moved on, as Rosalie told me. I didn't want more evidence of that, but God, I should've let him try to find you then. I would've had so much more time…" – he draws in a sharp, uneven breath.

"And I didn't contact you because from the image I saw of you in the media, I believed that the last thing you would've wanted was a child to bring it all to an end. I'm just as guilty of that as Rose is, Edward."

"What a fucking mess," he snorts, holding me tighter to him, his jaw moving more firmly over my head.

I sigh. "Yeah, it is."

"Bella, what Rose said…about you having to watch all that play out in the media…it kills me that you had to watch that. If it would've been the other way around I don't know how I would've been able to take it."

We sit there quietly for a long while. The feel of his arm around me, the way his jaw moves over my head relaxes my every muscle, makes my eyelids heavy.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" he inquires again.

It's obvious that as angry as he was, as he still is with Rose, the things she said to him today got to him. He's punishing himself in his mind, I know he is. And I can either let it continue while we remain stuck in what ifs and what we should've done…

…or we can keep trying to move forward.

"I _will_ be alright, Edward. It was hard to watch you, yes, but," – I turn my head and meet his gaze – "I can't keep blaming you for the things you may have done while we were apart. And perhaps…perhaps if I had contacted you…"

He smiles sadly and rests his forehead against mine. "Bella, I…you're everything, Bella."

I know what he wanted to say, and I know what he wishes I'd say in return.

But I can't. Not yet. I'm not there yet.

Instead, I rest my palm over his cheek and smile up at him. He closes his eyes at my touch and sighs. When he reopens them, I can see the twinge of disappointment in them, at my inability to verbalize what he wants me to, but he simply takes me by the shoulders and lowers me over the sofa, so that my feet are on his lap.

"Rest, Bella. I know you've had a long day."

"I am tired, physically and mentally. It's draining; between the scene with Rose and all this…and then Ellie…while I'm tired, she's restless, and I can't blame her, can I? But the tabloids here are relentless."

He nods in understanding. "I've got to admit, they do seem even more frenzied here than they are in the States."

I breathe a sigh of frustration.

"So…has Martin tried calling you again, then?"

Edward shakes his head.

"And how about…Tanya? Has she tried to contact you?"

Again, he shakes his head, exhaling loudly. "They won't call me. If either one of them has anything further to say to me, they'll either do it in public, or they'll strike out in a way that has nothing to do with any of this."

"Such as?"

He sighs and looks me in the eye. "I've had my lawyer send Tanya an offer to buy back her share of my mother's house. She hasn't responded."

"Do you think it's in retaliation to the press conference?"

He nods grimly. "Bella…what you saw that day at the fundraiser between she and I…it was pure politics at play. Our…separation wasn't exactly on the best terms."

I quirk a brow.

"I'll tell you what happened, but…" – he breathes out in exhaustion and throws his head back against the sofa – "…can we leave it for tomorrow?"

I'm quite curious, but at the same time, I'm also dreading it. Edward's relationship with his ex-wife isn't exactly at the top of my favorite topics list. Besides which, I've had enough drama for one day.

"Politics," I snort, closing my eyes. "How do you manage to keep everything straight, the truth and the lies?"

He chuckles wryly, wrapping my socked feet in his hands and squeezing.

"One of the first things Carlisle taught me is 'Politics is Perception.' It's all how we're perceived. For some administrations, politics is simply one big illusion. The Martin Administration, for example, would rather let this die down and hopefully hold on to the re-election by the skin of their teeth, than challenge me and destroy its perception. I hold the cards right now, Bella. I _will_ get that house back, for our daughter and for…" – he sighs. When I open my eyes, he's gazing at me intently.

"What happens after the election, if Martin does still win?"

"Then if I have to, I'll pull out my ace card." His expression is fierce. "I'll do whatever I have to do in order to protect you and our daughter. They know that now."

His eyes darken with the fervency of his absolute resolve. It sends a ripple down my spine, making me shudder, and I'm not even sure if I want to know what his ace card consists of, at least not right now.

"You've taken so much upon yourself, Edward," I point out quietly. "And on top of that, all this traveling back and forth between the U.S. and the U.K. like you're hopping a train to D.C. It must be exhausting."

"What else would you have me do, Bella?" he smirks. "I've got to see you and Elizabeth. Anything other than that isn't an option."

"Ellie's a smart child, Edward. She can be reasonable too. I'm sure she'd understand and get used to it if she couldn't see you for a couple of weeks at a time."

He sighs and angles his body sideways, fully facing me.

"Bella, I don't _want_ her to get used to not seeing me for a couple of weeks at a time. I don't _want_ her to understand that. I was absent from her life for _six years_."

The anguished remorse in his voice makes my chest ache, so much so that I can't respond right away.

And suddenly I realize that the answer has been there all along.

No, not really the answer, because there is no one answer to this, but perhaps a way to begin the healing process…for all of us.

I'm lost in thought while Edward takes my socks off gingerly, first one foot and then the other.

"What are you doing?" I'm only half paying attention to his actions while I quickly try to work things out in my head.

"You said you were tired from running around with Elizabeth. Let me give you a little massage."

"Alright, thanks. Edward, I've been thinking…_ohhh_…"

He presses his thumbs into the arch of my left foot, digging them in slowly, back and forth, in a circular motion.

My eyes roll to the back of my head and I close them once more.

"_Ohhh_," I moan, "that feels so good."

I squirm, moaning softly as he keeps rubbing at my foot.

"Edward, I thought we were going to stop the distraction tactics."

He chuckles huskily. "We weren't arguing. I'm not trying to distract you. I'm only trying to relax you. No one says our conversation has to stop. Please, continue."

I open my eyes and meet his dark, intense gaze. He moves his hands to my other foot, giving it the same treatment he just gave the first one, but digging his thumb into the arch of my foot with increased pressure.

I throw my head back and grip my hair in one hand, trying desperately to keep from crying out.

"Alright, then," I breathe shakily, while he holds me locked in his knowing eyes. "As I said, I've been thinking…"

He picks my foot up higher, his eyes intently on me, and drops his head low. A flash of heat and then his mouth is wrapped around my large toe.

I hiss in a sharp breath, arching my back. "_Ohhh_…"

His tongue swirls around my toe before he begins sucking on it, at first gently, and then with added urgency.

A low curse escapes from between my lips as the heavenly sensation travels up my ankles, past my shins, through my legs, and between my thighs. I clench them together tight, one hand still gripping my hair, trying to ground myself, the other gripping the side of the sofa, dying to let go. He releases my big toe and moves to the next one, giving it the same treatment, and then the next, and then next…

I writhe over the sofa, moving up and down, seeking something…needing _something_…

Suddenly, he's lying over me. He kisses me and I wrap my tingling feet around his waist, pulling him in while he pins my arms over my head, lacing our fingers tightly together. When he starts moving against me, I find the friction I need.

"_Edward_…" I breathe helplessly into his mouth, feeling the way he grows harder and harder as his hips move with mine. Somehow, I manage to open my eyes and find his hooded eyes fixed feverishly on me; his heady gaze consumes every inch of me. "_Edward_…"

"I'm sorry," he breathes quickly, tugging my lips between his own. "I'm sorry, I know this isn't taking it slow, but I can't resist you when you have that look in your eyes, or on your face."

"What look?" I pant, barely able to understand what he's going on about.

"_That_ look," he stresses, his darkened eyes roaming all over my face, grinning wickedly, "that look of total abandon you get when something feels _so_ damn good to you. I've dreamed of that look so many nights, Bella…"

He thrusts against me harder to illustrate his point, making a sharp grunt at the base of his throat that makes me moan, and when he hits the right spot I whimper helplessly. We're both wearing sweatpants and the material makes it so easy to feel when he hits the spot again and again, punctuating each stroke with that grunt; Jesus, I remember that grunt. My entire body begins to shudder under him. His mouth opens wide over mine, absorbing my every breath, my every groan.

"Yeah, Bella. Yeah, baby. _That_ look."

His tongue barely touches mine and retreats, teasing me. I'm on the brink. Just a couple more of those strokes and I'll be soaring, but what I need to say to him is so very important, so important that it manages to penetrate through the haze of lust consuming me; besides, as good as hell as this may feel, I'm not ready. I'm simply not ready to come at his command. It's too much.

Gathering every ounce of willpower that I possess, I quickly push him away.

He groans in protest. "Bella…"

"Stop it, Edward," I pant, grinning because despite the hell surrounding us, every day with him I feel more and more alive, more and more comfortable. "We may not have been arguing, but we really do have something important to discuss, and you're once again distracting the hell out of me."

He smirks, adjusting himself as he tries to settle comfortably back into a sitting position. I can't help glancing down at his sweats, where the outline of his long, thick erection is quite clear through the material, and I remember…I remember how it feels inside me…how he used to take me to someplace close to heaven with it…

With a laugh at myself and a reminder that I'm no longer that nineteen-year-old girl, I grip my hair in my fist and force myself to look away, to look up at his face, but he's watching me darkly, aware of where my gaze went, probably even aware of my thoughts.

"Edward, we _have_ to talk," I insist.

His dark gaze abruptly morphs into a bemused, knowing smile. He picks my feet up and places them on his lap again. I'm about to protest.

"I'll behave, I promise." A wry grin lights up his beautiful face when he cradles my right foot again. "We'll keep it at a foot massage. Go ahead, talk."

I smirk doubtfully, and despite how well he massages my foot, I urge myself to remain coherent.

"What I've been _trying_ to say is that…I'm going a bit stir crazy sitting about here, hiding from the tabloids and not knowing what Michael is thinking in regards to my job."

His expression tightens for a fraction of a second, but he draws in a deep breath and nods, no mask to be seen. His thumbs once again exert more pressure on my instep.

"And Ellie is having a hard time, too. We've had to restrict her outings and it's not fair to her."

He stops massaging, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "Bella, I know it's hard, I really do. If there was a way I could've kept you and Elizabeth out of this, I would've done so. It'll all hopefully die down in the next couple of months, definitely after the elections. I know those are still a few months away-"

I pull my feet away and sit up once more, facing him. "The thing is, Edward, I think it's harder for her here because the tabloids insist on keeping their focus on me, rather than on the political side of things, which she doesn't understand anyway. I think perhaps a change of scenery would do her good, would do us all some good."

He frowns quizzically.

"She keeps talking about seeing your house in Oyster Bay."

His face lights up. "You're going to bring her down for a visit? Bella, I think that's great. I wanted to ask you, but with everything going on I didn't want to stress you out any more."

"Edward, it's not right that you should board a plane every weekend to spend a few hours with your daughter before you have to leave again. Together with everything else, it's wearing you out."

He exhales. "Bella, I already told you, I have no choice. I _have_ to see you both and-"

"Listen to me. You and Ellie have lost so much time together," – I inhale unevenly – "and I know there's no way to make up for it, but I want you both to be able to spend as much time with one another as you can without the added stress of knowing that you'll have to board a plane again in just a few hours."

"What are you saying, Bella?"

"I don't know what's going to happen to my job, but if Michael wants to keep me in the company, he can find me something in New York."

He grins, that disarmingly lopsided grin of his. "In New York?"

I nod. "It would only be for one year, Edward," I clarify quickly. "But I don't see why Ellie can't complete her Year 1 over there, and you two can catch up on some of the time you've missed out on together without more stress than we all already have. I would get an apartment in the City, and Ellie can spend time with the both of us-"

He pulls me into his arms, so tight it's almost hard to breathe.

"Thank you, Bella," he murmurs fervently. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me, that I'll finally have you both so close. That we'll finally be" – he sighs – "together."

"Yes, actually," I breathe shakily, "I think I do."

When he kisses me, I sigh into his mouth, and he groans that groan that in one weekend became so familiar – and is becoming so once more. But this time, we don't take it any further.

We'll continue to take it slow, and we'll continue to slip into those moments when we can't resist each other, and that's okay. Because the way he kisses me now, slow, so slow, it's how he kissed me then, the way those first kisses were, our first weekend together. His kisses were just the beginning and held the promise of so much more.

No, he didn't keep his promises.

Not then.

And we can blame and yell and dissect in circles.

Or, we can try, once more, to get there together.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Yes, I know. In addition to sometimes being accused of being a 'Cliffy Bitch,' I've also had the term 'Cock-blocker' applied to me once or twice. ;)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page. We've got lots of eye-candy going on there lately, as well as yummy recipes too, and cyber brownies and goodies that are totally fat-free, and some that aren't, and teasers and pic teasers and...yeah, come join the craziness. :)**


	31. Chapter 31 - Reaching Out

**A/N: So...toe-sucking. Some of you aren't too keen on the idea. **

**Really? I mean, having a warm mouth wrapped around your toe, sucking soft at first, then harder and harder while his tongue swirls around and teases the tip; every time he pulls away a rush of cold air hits every spot where his tongue has licked you, and when he engulfs your toe in his steamy mouth once more, it's like a rush of heat that flashes straight up to your legs and thighs...**

**No? Does nothing for you? Not even if we make sure everyone took a bath beforehand and put on nice, clean socks?**

**Alright. Well to each their own I guess. ;)**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes (who hasn't actually given me her view on the whole having-your-toe-sucked debate)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. (And I have no idea how she feels about toe-sucking either.)**

**Ch. 31 – Reaching Out**

* * *

Living my entire life in the U.K., the fickleness of the English sun has never bothered me. Umbrellas are a part of life. We carry one at our sides, or a small one in our bags and go on with our day. The rain starts, and the various shaped and sized umbrellas pop out. It goes away, and we close them only to reopen them again a short while later when the rain returns, almost day after day. We don't stop our plans or reschedule much due to rain. It's simply part of our lives.

It's been raining almost non-stop for the past few days though, so heavily that it _has_ restricted much of our days – which have already been restricted due to the constant media surrounding us. We try to keep Ellie entertained indoors, but she's like a little monkey that's been caged – until her father returns from the U.S. He walks in soaked, without bothering with an umbrella and picks her up and turns her about in his wet arms, and she squeals in delight and absolutely radiates as if he's brought the sun with him. She orbits him like a little planet that hasn't known what to do with itself without its sun. And as much as it warms my heart to watch them greet each other after another week of absence, I feel a sense of peace at the decision I've made to move us to New York for the next year.

She shouldn't be without her sun for so long.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that evening, the rain continues to blanket the world outside, pounding against the windows ferociously. But inside, we're all nice and toasty; our stomachs full and satisfied after a delicious dinner prepared by Mum and Alice, with Ellie's help, of course, because she seems to have taken after them more than me in that regard. I snort quietly to myself when I think of how she doesn't seem to have taken after her paternal grandmother either, from what I've heard. Edward, Emmett and I, therefore, had no choice but to do the clean up.

Now we're all gathered round the small living room, watching a movie Ellie has picked, during which Emmett keeps making these faux snoring sounds to tease her.

"It is _not_ a boring movie, Emmett!" Ellie insists once more. "Daddy, you don't think it's a boring movie, do you?"

The three of us have wound up on the small two seater squeezed in with a heavy down blanket to keep us warm, and Ellie is snuggled on top, between Edward and I. It's tight, but I honestly don't think I've ever been more comfortable in my entire life.

"Of course it's not a boring movie," Edward assures her, wrapping his arm around her protectively while Emmett snickers from his spot on the floor. Mum's given him various blankets and pillows to make himself comfortable because she and Alice are sitting on the sofa on which he usually sleeps.

"Don't listen to Emmett, Ellie," Alice chimes in. "Boys only like movies with lots of girls and fighting." She grins flirtatiously down at him while he pretends not to notice how she fancies him.

"Don't forget car chases," he corrects her with a more brotherly-like grin of his own.

Alice finds this to be hilarious. Edward and I look at one another and roll our eyes playfully. Alice is not very subtle.

My mum looks at me and smiles, shaking her head.

"Aunty Alice, why are you laughing so hard? It wasn't that funny," Ellie remarks innocently – which makes the rest of us really break out in fits.

OOOOOOOOOO

The movie has been playing for about three quarters of an hour, but Edward and Ellie have stopped paying attention, while for all his talk, Emmett lies across the floor enraptured, eyes firmly on the screen.

"May we go on the boat whenever we want?" Ellie asks her father.

He's been telling her about New York and everything they're going to do when we come to live there. She's been beyond excited since we told her that she and I would be moving to New York for one year.

"Of course we can. It's our boat. Except when it starts getting very cold, the water freezes, and we can't take out the boat."

"Oh."

"But when it gets colder, I'll take you pumpkin picking and apple-picking like your grandmother Elizabeth used to take me and your Uncle Jasper. And for Thanksgiving, my Aunt Esme, who's already planning so many activities for you, makes a delicious holiday dinner."

"What's Thanksgiving, Daddy?"

"It's a holiday we celebrate in the U.S. to give thanks for all we have." He kisses the top of her head. "I'm going to be giving plenty of thanks this year." His eyes trail to me, and he smiles softly. "And we're going to go on horse and buggy rides in Central Park, and cut down our own tree for Christmas, and when you're in school, they'll-"

"What if the American kids don't like me, Daddy?"

His brow furrows. "Of course they'll like you, Honey. Why wouldn't they?"

"I speak different from you. What if they don't like how I speak? What if they make fun of me?"

"Ellie, darling," I cut in, "they're going to absolutely love how you speak. Trust me. When I've been over there, almost everybody tells me, 'Oh, I simply love your accent. Can you say something else'?" I bat my lashes playfully, making her giggle.

"Your mom is right, Elizabeth," Edward murmurs. "I can listen to her speak all day."

I roll my eyes teasingly at him, remembering how many times he told me he loved my accent that weekend. "So it's just English accents in general that you fancy then, is it?"

"No. It's not." He gazes at me, his lips pursed in that smirk of his, the one that makes my toes tingle.

Then I think of toes.

A shiver runs through me, all the while his eyes remain focused on me.

"English accents are hot," Emmett volunteers from where he lies on the floor, though his eyes remain firmly trained on the television. "Trust me, Ellie, you'll have all those six-year old yanks dropping as soon as you say 'hi'."

"Emmett." Edward warns, while I laugh.

"Why would they fall when I say 'hi'?" Ellie asks, furrowing her brows in confusion. "That sounds sort of scary."

"Never mind Emmett," Edward mutters, glaring in his direction. "He's an assss...anine dummy."

Emmett chuckles, while Ellie laughs heartily.

"Ellie, you be yourself and everybody will accept you as you are. And if anyone doesn't, Darling, you simply stick to the ones who do." My mum says.

I look at her, wondering how I'm going to make it through the next year without her words of wisdom.

"I wish I could go to the U.S.," Alice says wistfully. "I'd love to have some American blokes dropping over my accent."

"Why don't you come with us?" I suggest.

Her eyes light up. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. It's only for one year. You can do one of those university exchange programs and not miss out on your schooling."

It's as if I've just promised her the world on a silver platter.

"Oh my God, oh my god, oh my God," she starts chanting over and over. "I'm going to America. I'm going to America!"

I suddenly remember my mum. I move my eyes to her quickly, and though she's looking at Alice and laughing, there's something wistful in her eyes, and I suddenly feel like such a fool. In a heartbeat, I've taken both her daughters and granddaughter so far away from her.

"Goodness, I'm going to be left to me own devices now for a full year! What in the world will I do with myself?" she chuckles. "Suppose I'll have to find me self a handsome bloke to spend the evenings with."

"Mom!" Alice protests while the rest of us laugh. When our eyes meet, she grins, her eyes soft and tender.

Ellie eyes us all one by one, and then with a shrug turns her attention back to the telly once more. Edward snorts and adjust her over us so that he and I are now pressed up against each other, and with a satisfied grin on his face, he wraps one arm around Ellie, and the other around me.

OOOOOOOOOO

When my mobile vibrates towards the end of the movie, I angle away from Edward so that I can reach my pocket. As soon as I see Michael's name on the screen, my heart drops to my feet. I feel a flush rise to my cheeks full of guilt and embarrassment though I know there's no reason for it; I've done nothing wrong. Still, as I answer, my eyes trail shamefully to Edward. He appears to be paying rapt attention to the screen, but when I stand, his eyes immediately move to me.

"I'll be right back," I mouth, quickly walking to the kitchen, feeling his eyes still on me.

Michael and I have only shared quick, business-related calls and emails since we had lunch in London, and he confessed his…feelings. I've a bit of nausea in my stomach as I press down on my mobile to answer, and hope to God it all remains business.

"Michael?"

"Isabella." I can hear the grin in his voice. "I just wanted to let you know how sales of the magazine are going."

The ERA magazine featuring the article on Edward and his legacy hit the newsstands a few days ago. From what the telly and papers are reporting, the issue has been an unimaginable hit, even more so than any of the forecasters had predicted. In just the first day, it sold out of every shelf in every store and in every booth in America as well as abroad. With the second printing, it has once again been sold out.

"It's a hit, Michael," I smile. "I've heard."

"And I wanted to thank you for that," he says. "You wrote one hell of a piece."

"It's more curiosity of what was in the piece than my actual writing that are driving sales, Michael," I chuckle. "You and I both know that."

"Well, maybe," he concedes. "for now, but I think once all this craziness dies down and people stop to see what an in-depth, kick-ass bit of material you've actually written, many of these new readers are going to stick around with ERA for future issues."

"I hope you're right," I sigh, still not as confident as he is about that.

"Isabella, I _am_ right. I can feel it in my bones." His tenacity makes me smile despite the nerves in my stomach. "In fact, I'm so sure of how right I am," he continues, "that I wanted to see if you were ready to return to work in London as _ERA London's_ new-"

"Michael," I interject quickly, "I've got something to tell you." While he waits silently, I draw in a deep breath. "I'm moving to New York."

In the background, all I hear are the faint sounds of urban life: horns honking, music playing, ambulances passing, the loud voices of passersby. From the sounds of it, he's in New York himself.

"It's only for a year," I resume after a pause, "so that Edward and our daughter can have an easier transition into their relationship. It's difficult right now, with him having to take so much time off from his New York practice to fly back and forth. It's not an ideal situation for either of them."

"Of course," he says after a while. "That does make sense. And it does make things a lot easier for the Congressman."

"For the three of us," I correct a bit defensively. "It's hard for my daughter, watching her father come and go so much. She misses him."

Michael chuckles heartily. It doesn't offend me. I suppose I have gotten to know him a bit in the past few years because I can tell that he's being neither arrogant nor condescending, as he's very capable of being.

"You miss him too. Don't be afraid to admit it, Isabella. Like I said, if you're going to go into it, give it your all, the way you do everything else in your life."

"Perhaps I do," I smile, though it doesn't feel quite right admitting it to him when I haven't even admitted it to myself or to Edward for that matter.

"Perhaps you do," he echoes. I hear him draw in a breath. "Are you sure about this, Isabella? Don't be too hasty about this decision. I won't lie," he chuckles, "this would be a huge opportunity for you. Are you sure this move is worth the sacrifice? Are you sure...that he's worth it?"

I think back to seven years ago, in that hotel room, when Edward wavered about his own sacrifice and it started a chain of events that led to where we are today.

My chest rises and falls. "The only way we'll ever find out, Michael, is by sacrificing, by giving it my all, as you just suggested."

He says nothing for a few, long seconds. "If you change your mind, Isabella, you'll have to tell me as soon as possible. I'm afraid I won't be able to hold that position open for much longer."

It hurts, it really does. I did so want that position. "You shouldn't hold it open, Michael. I want you to know how grateful I am that you were going to offer it to me in the first place."

"That was our deal, wasn't it? If you did a good job with the piece, you'd earn the position. And you did a great job."

"Yes, it was our deal," I smile. "You've always been fair."

"Yes, I have. That's why they call me Michael Newton, the Fair Billionaire Entrepreneur." He's teasing, but I can hear the disappointment in his tone.

"No one calls you that," I laugh.

He makes a responding sound somewhere between a snicker and a snort. "We can find you something in New York," he offers more seriously. "Ben Cheney has secured himself the Editor-in-Chief position in _ERA New York_ and I can't kick him out of it without a good reason or a lawsuit, but-"

"Michael, I've been giving it lots of thought. I owe it to my daughter, and to Edward, to make this transition as easy as possible for them – for the three of us. I'd like to take a sabbatical from work. There are things…a lot of things I have to fix, and a couple of things I've always had in the back of my mind to do, and now perhaps I can take the time to work on them. I'd also like to spend as much time as possible with my daughter. This is going to be a huge change for her, in so many ways, and I'd like to be with her through it as much as possible. I know it's not in my contract, and I know you don't have to agree to it, so I understand if you have to let me go, but-"

He sighs. "Isabella, take your sabbatical. Be there for your daughter. Follow your heart. Give it your all. Fix things," he recounts the list I just recited, and I can almost see him ticking them off one by one on his fingers, the way he tends to do. "As I said, I'm still your friend. At the end of the year, you let me know where things stand."

Michael can be a very aggressive, ambitious, and sometimes ruthless businessman. But he's never been that way with me, and now that I know of his feelings, I recognize the double meaning of his last statement:_ 'Let me know where things stand.'_

"Thank you, Michael. I really appreciate this." I don't respond to that last statement.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement. When I look over, Edward is standing at the threshold to the small kitchen. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest, and simply watches me.

"Sure, Sweetheart. You've been a great asset to this company and I'd rather agree to a sabbatical than to completely lose you. If there's anything else I can help with, let me know."

At this point, I simply want to get off this call. My stomach is suddenly twisted in knots, and Edward's piercing gaze burns a hole through my scalp.

"Again, thank you. I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"And Isabella…I hope our talk last week didn't make you too uncomfortable. I mean it when I say I don't want to lose you completely," he says, his voice lower.

I feel my face grow hot, all the while Edwards demanding gaze doesn't move from me.

"Isabella?" Michael asks when I fail to respond.

"Uhm..yes, Michael…thanks for calling. I'm fine, honestly, and I…uh…we'll be in touch, alright?"

There's a slightly unsatisfied huff in his voice when he responds. "Alright, let me know when you're settled in New York. Maybe we can have dinner or something?"

"Sure," I agree quickly, anxious to end this call. "Take care, Michael."

After I hang up, Edward and I stand around looking awkwardly at one another.

"The movie ended."

"Oh. That was Michael."

"I gathered that."

"He called to tell me that sales of the ERA issue are through the roof."

"Something we already knew."

"He also called to offer me the Editor-in-Chief position in the London office."

He draws in a deep breath, releasing it with a heavy sigh. "Bella, if that's what you really want, I won't hold you back. I'll keep making the trip back and forth. At some point though, I do want Elizabeth to come visit me in the States. She has a right to learn her American roots as well, and to meet her family over there. I mean Jasper and my Aunt Esme, of course. I'd also like to take her to-"

"Edward, I turned it down."

He frowns. "Bella-"

I move in closer to him, while he stands stiff and wary. I can see him fighting with the mask, struggling not to give in to the only way he seems to have been taught to protect himself. He closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, I can clearly see his pain; he doesn't hide it and as strange as it is, I'm flooded with relief. Before he can waver though, I reach out and put a hand on his forearm.

"I'm coming to New York. I made you a promise-"

"I'm not going to hold you bound to a promise you made before you had all the facts."

"I had all the facts I needed. Going to New York is what I want to do. It's important to me. It's important to Ellie."

He dips his head down to my eye-level, searching my eyes carefully. I see the hope in his expression before he reaches out and pulls me to him. We wrap our arms around one another's waists and I can feel every muscle in his body relax.

"Bella…I want you to come to New York, but I don't want you to sacrifice anymore than you've already had to sacrifice because of me and my father. If that Editor-in-Chief position feels right-"

I raise my eyes to him. "Edward, _this_ feels right," I tell him honestly, yet I can still see the anxious set of his jaw, the way his eyes narrow.

"Do you remember directly after your conference when you told me that what you'd done was simply what you should've done seven years ago?" He nods carefully. "Well, that's what I'm doing now. I should've gone to New York. I should've given you a chance to know your daughter then, no matter what. I should've let _you_ decide if that's what you wanted."

"It is what I would've wanted," he assures me, his voice strong and unquestionable.

"Then that's what I'm doing now."

"What about your career?"

"My career can be put on hold; this can't. I need to give you time with your daughter, to help you both make up for lost time. I'm trying to set things right, Edward, even if it is six years later." When my voice breaks he pulls me against him once more, kissing the crown of my head over and over, holding me so tight it's painful to breathe – yet at the same time, so cleansing to do so.

"Thank you," he murmurs, the fervency of his words sends a flash of warmth through me. "You and Elizabeth coming to New York…Bella, I won't lie, it means everything to me. But I feel like shit for making you sacrifice this position."

"Don't. You sacrificed for us too." His arms tighten around me.

We may both be taking decisions now that we should've taken years ago, but we have so much more to fight for now.

For a long while, we simply stand there, holding each other.

OOOOOOOOOO

The days go by in a haze of preparations. Edward returns to New York to make arrangements for us on his end. He's going to help me find an apartment because though Michael has offered to let me hold on to the company apartment I was staying in before, it doesn't feel right for my daughter and I to live there. I'm very lucky, I do realize it. I have enough money to give Ellie and I a comfortable life in New York, and though Edward offered to pay for the apartment, that's not something I feel comfortable with either. He's insisted on paying for at least half of all Ellie's expenses and though my pride wants to fight him on that as well, I understand he needs this. Edward is also helping Alice with what she needs to do for her study abroad program. She'd like to go to NYU, and Edward, of course, knows someone there. He's doing all he can to make this move as easy for all of us as possible.

Ellie is a bundle of excitement, and just watching her is enough to make me forget – or almost forget – the constant media that still surrounds us. The story won't die down, because Edward's speech simply started an avalanche that only picks up more speed as the days go by.

If my motives are being questioned here in the U.K, Carlisle Cullen is facing a growing mountain of resentment both in the U.S. and here because the public and the media have pieced enough of the puzzle together to know that he was indeed involved in keeping the knowledge of Ellie away from his son. He and Jay Jenks are also the focus of an FBI investigation into years of shady dealings between the two, where the Congressman may or may not have used government time, and possibly constituent funds and contributions to pay for Jenks' services. He's appeared on TV a few times, head down, rushing from his office to his waiting car or vice versa, with an angry "no comment," on his lips.

And as the summer begins to draw to a close and the election looms closer, President Martin is now fighting his own uphill battle. His silence on the issue has only fueled speculation that he was somehow involved. His once sure re-election is now on shaky ground.

"Are you sure you want to jump into the lion's den, Darling?" my mum asks me over breakfast one morning. "You and Ellie will be closer to Edward's father, and to the President over there."

She's all for my move to New York, supporting me the way she always has, and though she's grinning, I note a slight bit of apprehension in her eyes. It's rarely ever there, which is why it concerns me. I don't want to leave my mother behind worrying about Ellie, Alice and I.

"Edward's right, Mum. They won't dare say anything or do anything against Ellie or me at this point. It would be political suicide for the President, as well as for Carlisle – especially now that the press has figured out that Edward wasn't even around when his own engagement was announced. It makes everything appear even more dodgy. Carlisle has covered his tracks well with the press release. Nothing leads back to him so far, but speaking out against Ellie or me will only make him seem guilty, which the public already thinks he is anyway. As for Martin, the best he can hope for is that all this dies away at least a few weeks before the election."

My mum shakes her head. "Bloody bastards. And how about the President's daughter, Tanya? Do you think she'll get involved in all this?"

I draw in a lungful of air. "She's been quiet so far, and Edward thinks she'll continue to be so. He says there's something he wants to show me when I'm in New York, something about their family house," I run a hand through my hair, "I don't know, Mum. If I stop and think too hard, I'll just panic and…and I don't want to panic anymore. He's filed the paperwork for Ellie's surname change, updated his will, found a townhouse for Ellie, Alice and me, made so many changes, yet I can't help thinking how much easier it would be for me to stay here with you," I blurt quickly, putting a hand over hers and squeezing tight, part of me hoping she agrees.

Instead, she simply smiles tenderly at me.

"You're terrified, Bella. I know that, Darling. But if you stayed here, you'd simply be hiding, wouldn't you?" she chuckles. "Staying here really isn't an option for you at this point now, is it? You know that."

I eye her sheepishly, fully aware of how right she is, as usual.

"Come with us," I plead for about the twentieth time since I decided to move to America.

She chuckles, shaking her head the way she has every time I've brought it up.

"Darling, what would I do in the U.S? All those yanks running about so busy all the time, watching their American football and driving their huge cars and opening their monstrous refrigerators." She waves me off, making me laugh. "No, Love," she murmurs, patting my hand. "I belong here. I have a job here. I raised a family and made a life here with your father and you girls. Now it's your turn to make a life for your family, Bella. Besides, you'll have Ellie and Edward, and Alice will have you and Ellie, but someone needs to watch over Rose." She takes a sip from her cup of tea, watching me over the rim.

I nod quietly.

"I'll go visit you often," she offers, "for that American holiday, Thanksgiving, and for Christmas. I'll go visit every Christmas, how's that?"

"But Mum," I correct her, "Ellie and I will only be there for one Thanksgiving and Christmas."

The smile she gives me brims over with something I can't quite put a finger on, some conviction; something she seems to know deep in her heart, where all her knowledge has always come from. I don't know if I'll ever possess that type of strength and confidence, and what will I do without her there to guide me?

"Oh, Darling," she chuckles, cupping my cheek tenderly, "I am so going to miss you."

OOOOOOOOOO

We've tried to keep Ellie's and my move to the States quiet from the press for as long as possible, but the story breaks a few days before our move. Edward wanted to fly back to the U.K to escort Ellie, Alice and I back to New York, and I had a hard time convincing him that it wasn't necessary. I've made the flight over dozens of times by now, and he's been so busy it didn't seem fair to have him come just to turn right back around. Besides, we have an entire team of security traveling with us: Emmett, Seth, Paul, Brady and Collin.

The night before our departure, I put Ellie in bed extra early, after she's had her long phone call with her father, both of them so excited it literally made me dizzy to speak to either one. Alice is off at a farewell party her mates have thrown her, though I've sent Seth and Paul with her and made them promise to get her home by one a.m.; we have an early morning flight, and though most of our luggage has been sent ahead and what we're taking is already packed and waiting by the door, knowing her, she'll have a few last-minute bits to add.

Mum is in bed as well. She wants to get up extra early to send us all off with a nice breakfast. So while Emmett hangs about outside with the rest of the guys, I'm sitting in the front room taking care of a few last-minute bits of my own, trying to ignore the butterflies tumbling about in my stomach.

I hear Emmett's voice outside, approaching the house, and am surprised when he knocks, because he's got his own key at this point. I'm even more surprised when I open the door and find Rose standing there with him.

We stare at each other awkwardly.

"Well, good luck with everything," Emmett tells her quietly. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

She turns to him quickly. "Yes, you take care too. It was nice meeting you, Emmett."

"You too, Rosalie," he says, and with somewhat of a pleading glance towards me, walks away.

"Come in," I tell her, moving aside so she can enter.

"I came to say goodbye to Ellie," she says warily. "If that's okay."

"She's already in bed. I put her in early because we'll have a long day tomorrow."

She closes her eyes and exhales. "Of course, I should've thought of that."

"We can…go upstairs so that you can give her a quick peek if you'd like."

She nods vehemently. "I'd appreciate that."

She follows me up the stairs - a trip she's made hundreds of times in her life because this house has been as familiar to her as it's been to me - into the bedroom where she and I played and dreamed of imaginary boyfriends since we were Ellie's age.

Ellie is fast asleep, her mouth puckered into a soft smile when we approach her. Rose kneels down next to the bed, gazing down. I can see in her expression how much she's going to miss Ellie – and Ellie will miss her too. Ellie hasn't noticed it because she's been so taken with the novelty of her dad, but she and Rose haven't spent half as much time together as they used to. Rose was once a part of our everyday lives.

"Good-bye, Munchkin," she whispers quietly to my sleeping daughter. "You take care of yourself. Aunty Rose is so going to miss you." She leans over and places a quick kiss on her hand before getting up.

We walk quietly back downstairs. At the door, Rose turns and looks at me, eyes full of guilt. It makes my chest ache, that look in her eyes. We were once sisters, and I suppose that no matter what, her pain will always be my pain.

"Take care of yourself and of Ellie."

"I will."

"I gave Emmett the name of a football league over there in New York City, West Side Pee Wee Soccer League, I believe it's called. I played with the coach one summer when he came to Leigh. He was quite good."

"Thanks," I smile faintly.

"Is it alright if I call her sometimes, to say hi?"

"She'd be horribly gutted if you didn't."

"Bella, I'm so sorry," she whispers shakily. "I wish I could go back and do things differently."

Her tears start falling, and so do mine.

"I do too, Rose. I do too. We've…all made mistakes."

"I never meant to hurt you or Ellie, and instead I ended up taking her away from her father and you from a man that may have given the world for you."

I close my eyes and sigh unevenly. "Rose, perhaps someday we can…but I need this time away, Rose. I need to give this to Edward and our daughter. They need to make up for lost time as much as possible, and I…"

I trail off because I'm still not sure what I need, and as much as I would've once poured all my doubts and fears out to her of all people, right now, I can't.

She nods anyway, even if I've only given her half-sentences, and I know she understands. She's always understood.

I draw in a deep breath and force the tears to stop, and so does she.

"I'm leaving Mum in your hands, Rose," I say solemnly. "You take care of her while Alice and I are gone, alright?"

She inhales deeply and nods. "I will."

Her hand reaches out. I eye it speculatively. "Take care, yeah?"

Slowly, I reach out and meet her hand. "Yeah."

OOOOOOOOOO

It's a rainy morning in London when we arrive at Heathrow. Ellie has never been to an airport. She looks around the huge terminal teaming with action, her eyes wide and curious, Snowy and Pinky clutched tightly to her.

Emmett and his team circle and guard the three of us from the press as we make our way to our gate. Michael offered me the use of one of his jets, but I politely declined. I'm not sure how much of the treatment I've received from him over the years has been from friendship and how much has been because of my status as his lover. I have to make sure I keep a clear distinction from now on.

On the plane, Emmett and his team are seated all around us, keeping us from curious stares and any probing reporters. Ellie plays with the telly screen in front of her for a couple of hours, then grows bored and naps. She doesn't want to touch the flight meal, claiming it smells funny. I brought her snacks, quite aware of my daughter's sometimes finicky ways. When she wakes, she gazes out the window at the billowing clouds, amazed by how the plane speeds right through them. After a while, she grows restless again and naps – until the flight attendant announces our imminent arrival into JFK International Airport with a local time of ten a.m., eastern standard and a temperature of eighty degrees Fahrenheit, or about 27 degrees Celsius for us Brits. All of that goes right over Ellie's head though; bouncing in her seat, all she understands is that she's about to see her dad once more. When we touch ground, I close my eyes and give thanks for an uneventful ride.

Somehow, I manage to keep a hold of Elizabeth's hand as we walk off the plane, through the narrow attachment that will take us to the gate. While she vibrates with barely contained excitement, my stomach is in knots. Not for the first time in the past few days, I once again doubt my decision to move us over here – even if just for one year. How will America receive my daughter and me – and my sister to boot? Have I just completely ruined not one but possibly three lives?

Well, I'll soon find out. I'm quite aware that though we were free of them for the flight over, the press will be waiting eagerly just outside of Customs for the Swan women to make an appearance - well, two Swans and one almost-Cullen.

"Mummy, when can we visit Central Park with Daddy?"

"Ellie, I just want to get to our flat and sleep after that long plane ride!" Alice laughs. "Are we far, Bella?"

"Not too far," I assure Alice somewhat distractedly. "About a three-quarters of an hour car ride."

Ellie glares at her own two feet and pouts in a way she does when she's so physically tired she doesn't even realize it. "I want to see Daddy and go to Central Park," she whines.

I look down at her and smile. She glances up at me, frowning, but then something seems to catch her attention straight ahead. Her tired eyes abruptly grow wide, sparkling with that emerald excitement only she and her father possess. In a flash, she loosens herself from my grip and shoots off running, startling me.

"Ellie!" I call out, reaching for her, but she's racing away, and when I give chase I stop as if I've hit a wall dead on, watching my daughter squeal as she flings herself into waiting arms.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

Edward laughter vibrates with undisguised joy as he folds his daughter into his warm embrace.

"Elizabeth, welcome to New York, honey." He kisses her softly on the cheek. I see the way his eyes close for a couple of seconds when she drops her head to his shoulder, as if he's giving the same silent thanks I gave when we landed.

My heart thumps loudly with the enormity of the decision I've made. Yes, I've left my homeland before, but I've always returned within the week – it has always been my true, permanent home.

And now, even if for just one year, I'll have a new home, far, far away from the safety of my own parent's embrace.

My mum's face quickly comes to mind…that last knowing chuckle she gave me as if she already knew something I'm only just beginning to see.

When Edward reopens his eyes they're right on me. He drinks me in, grinning crookedly as I approach. I see he's dressed up for the occasion, wearing one of his dark custom-tailored suits that fit him to a tee, his face clean-shaven, sharp red tie knotted perfectly about his neck, his emerald eyes sparkling the same as his daughter's just did, full of a happiness I think I've only ever seen once before – when he first met Ellie.

There may also be a few people around him, I can't really tell. I've got tunnel vision that leads only to the ecstatic man before me, and the equally thrilled little girl in his strong arms.

"What are you doing at the gate?" It's the first thing I ask, because no one is allowed past customs unless they're traveling.

"I'm a Congressman," he shrugs, grinning unapologetically. He reaches out his hand, Ellie still in his arms, and I take it instinctively, without a second thought.

"Welcome back, Bella," he murmurs, gazing deep into my eyes.

I grin. For the first time in twenty-four hours, the butterflies in my stomach flutter with a different sort of tension. No longer in fear of the decision I've made, but full of excitement; anticipation. It's the same way I felt the first time he led me through London.

I'm shaking with this expectancy as Jasper gives me a warm hug, so much so that Edward makes the introductions between him and Alice.

I can barely hear anything as Ellie describes her entire flight in detail to her father.

We hand in our documentation in Customs and I stop, frozen once more, right before walking through the doors.

"Everything okay?" Edward murmurs, looking at me curiously. Despite her excitement, Ellie has fallen asleep in her father's arms, her head resting peacefully on his shoulder.

The expectancy once again turns to wariness as I remember what lies beyond those doors.

"They're out there," I whisper.

"Yes, they are." He reaches his hand out again, grinning encouragingly. "And I'm here. I'll always be here, okay?"

The thing is, I'm not sure what I'm going to face now. Though I've been here before, it's never been this way. Beyond those doors lies a world as foreign to me as was the world I faced when I found out I was going to be a mom.

But this time, Edward _is_ here.

I stare at his still outstretched hand.

We can walk together, but keep our hands at our sides, and the rumors and speculation about us will continue.

Or I can take his hand.

He's waiting patiently.

I reach out and he wraps his hand around mine, and when we pass through the doors the cameras flash wildly. It takes me a few seconds to realize when they've lost interest in Edward's and mine joined hands; when with quiet gasps the questions have stopped. I follow their curious eyes, the flashes of their cameras…

…right to Ellie's smiling face.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Still love hearing from you guys. Please continue letting me know what you're thinking...**

**The next chapter will be EPOV...:)**

**My sister-in-law is English. To this day, whenever we go out together, as soon as she opens her mouth and speaks, everyone around us is instantly fascinated. "Oh, you're English? I love your accent. Where in England are you from?" Time and time again. **

*****And...well...just as a heads up, I know I've been religious about posting on time, but I've got a few things going on in the next couple of weeks. Updates may be delayed a bit. Just wanted to let you all know and apologize ahead of things just in case.*****

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	32. Chapter 32 - Humming Along

**A/N: First things first:**

**Guys, please do me a favor? Regardless of what higher being you believe in, or even if you don't believe in a higher being, please close your eyes for a couple of seconds and ask whatever higher power there is to please make little Hailey better and to give her parents strength and her doctors guidance. She's a little girl that needs help right now. Thanks all. :)**

**Alright, ****I still can't promise updates as frequent as those you've gotten used to, but here's a nice long chapter to tide you over. The next few weeks promise to be hectic at the PattyRosa household, with graduations and parties and camp and new schedules and work and...sigh. I do hope to be able to update at least once a week, but I'm not sure about two updates a week. Maybe, maybe not. The good news is that the story only has a few chapters left, so we should be done soon anyway. (At least I think that's good news.)**

**Anyway, here you go guys. We're giving the new little family a reprieve from the heavy and the drama – a chance to enjoy each other before we get down to the last bits.**

**Beta'd by Michelle Renker Rhodes. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Ch. 32 – Humming Along**

* * *

**EPOV**

I've got a few vague memories from my childhood.

In one of them, it's late afternoon and I'm playing outside on the small beach behind our house, running up and down parallel to the wood dock where our white, two-story motorboat seesaws from side to side with the current. I pause when the sun starts to come down over the water, rippling and dropping in a way that makes it seem as if it's actually taking a plunge into the Long Island Sound. The water turns a strange, orange hue as it swallows the sun up, and I swear I see it boil up thick, bubbles popping on the surface while the carrot-colored sky expands and contracts, getting ready to do the same. The seagulls don't seem worried though; they circle the burning sky right above us, completely ignoring the impending doom. Some of them fly so close to the fire I'm sure they're about to burst into flames, while others swoop down low and if I just give a couple of good jumps, I'll be able to touch them. So as I watch the seagulls circle and play their own games, I figure if they're okay with the end of the world, then so am I. Besides, the thing that makes this memory stand out is the fact that at no moment was I actually scared. Despite my conviction that the world was about to explode, I'd found safety on my mother's lap.

(Now, keep in mind that I was at an age where sitting on my mother's lap wasn't yet an embarrassment of epic proportions - by the time it would've become an embarrassment she was too sick for me to do so anyhow.)

Anyway, I'm sitting on Elizabeth Masen-Cullen's lap, wearing a black eye-patch that makes the now red Long Island Sound before me seem only about half its usual size, and swinging a plastic grey sword in front of the cool, beach air. I dig my feet into the warm, tan sand, kicking it up while I pretend to fight and defeat imaginary enemies. (I went through a pretty intense pirate phase in my childhood.) My mother sings a song while I make cool swishing and slicing noises with the sword. I don't remember the exact wording of the song, but that's not the point of this memory; I do know that it was something to do with a pirate captain stealing a princess' treasure and how the pirate's son helped her get it back, somehow saving the rest of the pirate's men in the process.

My mom sings the song really well too; I mean like she really gets into it. She roughens up her voice and growls, makes all these kick-ass gestures, sways her torso from side to side while her pretty, copper hair bounces behind her, swings her fisted hand back and forth in an arc, frowns and puffs up her chest – she looks and sounds just like a pirate, playing the part so convincingly that half-way through the song, I'm squinting my one uncovered eye into the flame-colored horizon, convinced that I can _almost_ see a pirate ship up ahead - a raggedy, ripped black flag and an image of a skull waving in the breeze over it.

My father joins in on the singing; his voice is strong and deep and impossible to ignore. Carlisle Cullen's entire character is hard to ignore. He's really tall, with solid, wide shoulders and a square jaw that demands respect. Even when the beach breeze blows his hair around, somehow each strand magically lands back in place. The seagulls practically circle around his very shoulders, but he ignores them pretty effectively, and in return, they seem to know better than to get any closer. Like I said, he commands respect. While he bends down to pick up sea shells and throw them into the tide, his baritone voice mixes and melds with my mother's softer one.

At the end of the song, he grins and drops to his knees, crawling over to my mother and me, making her laugh.

"Do you understand that song, Edward?" He eyes my one exposed eye intently through both of his clear, blue ones.

I shrug. "It's about a pirate boy and his treasure, matey!" I growl. (Because don't forget, I'm a pirate.)

He smirks, laughing at me. "It's about more than that, Son. It's about a boy that would grow up to be a great man; that would make it his duty, his responsibility to help people."

"Carl," my mother chuckles, "he's barely six years old. Don't turn everything into a lesson for him. Let him have his fun."

My father mumbles something about teaching me from the beginning, but my mother softly scoffs at him. I don't really hear the rest of their conversation because I'm too busy searching the high seas for the pirate ship. If I narrow my eye into a slit, I can almost make it out…

"Did the pirate marry the princess?" I'm not even sure why I ask, and had I known the discussion it would stir, I wouldn't have.

My mom tightens her arms around me, making it hard for me to wave my sword the way I've been doing. I try to shake her off, but this all happened long before she became sick, and at this point, she's still a lot stronger than me.

"I suppose he did, if he fell in love with her." She's got this strange, dreamy quality in her voice.

"She was a princess with all the right connections. Of course he fell in love with her."

"What are connections?"

"Carl, stop!" my mother cries, that dreamy tone completely gone. She shakes her head at my dad, but he simply laughs at her. "Is that why you married me, then?"

"Of course not, Love, but you've got to admit, it worked out well."

My mother rolls her eyes. "Don't listen to your father, Edward. Years from now, when you're a lot older, you'll meet a princess, and you'll know her whether she has connections or a crown, or jewels – or not."

I stop swinging my sword for a second and turn to look at my mother. Her green eyes, exactly like mine, reflect the red glow in the sky, turning them a strange, but beautiful shade. "But if she doesn't have a crown or jewels, how will I know her, Mom?"

"Exactly," my father mutters.

"Be quiet, Carlisle," my mom says with a bit more frustration in her tone, keeping her eyes on me. I know she's getting upset because she's called him by his full name. When she calls _me_ by my full first name, it doesn't mean anything, but when she does it with my dad...Now, if she says, "Edward Anthony," that's a totally different story. That means I'm in trouble.

She places her hand over my heart. "You'll know her here, Edward."

My father sucks his teeth. "For God's sakes, Liz, stop telling the boy fairy-tales. He's going to grow up thinking everything is sunshine and roses."

"It's better than growing up thinking everything is about connections and power."

I have no idea what they're talking about with their sunshine, roses, connections, and power - I just want to find that pirate ship. So I climb off her lap and leave them to their discussion while I move closer to the shore, removing my eye-patch so I can see better. The entire world lies before me in darkening shades of red and orange, with a breeze that's blowing all the harder – perfect conditions for a pirate ship sighting. _Yeah_, I grin, _that's much better_. When I turn around, my father is now holding my mother prisoner on his lap while she struggles to get off. I panic for a second, wondering if all this time, he's really been a pirate in disguise, and wondering exactly how useful my plastic sword will be in defeating him-

-but then I see her wide smile and hear her giggles. She turns her face up to him, and he kisses her on her mouth - and I know that they must be playing their own grown-up pirate games.

I turn towards the shore once more and resume my search for the illusive pirate ship of Oyster Bay Cove.

OOOOOOOOOO

Turns out, years later, I did find my princess. She wore no crown – unless you can count her chestnut hair as a crown, and she had no fancy jewels – unless you count her bottomless, amber eyes. And yes, I did recognize her exactly the way my mother had once predicted. Unfortunately, it turned out that I wasn't her hero-pirate – not by a fucking long shot.

Instead _I_ did the stealing from that princess. Our story ended on an abrupt and tragic note, nothing like the song my mother had sung to me decades ago. She would've been pretty damn ashamed.

But there's a new beginning to our story. I've been given a year, and maybe this time…I can make it end the way it was meant to.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Daddy, how much longer until we're there?"

I smile to myself, keeping my eyes firmly on the road ahead of me. Back in the service, Emmett and I learned to drive while doing a handful of other things at the same time: watching out for shit flying above us, to the side of us, for IEDs under us, talking through mouth and head pieces, loading artillery, wearing NVGs, watching our cargo, etc. But I've got the most precious cargo of all in my car right now. I'm not taking chances by taking my eyes off the road for too long.

"Ellie, you've asked that question about twenty times already," Alice chides her. "You're going to give your dad a headache.

She _has_ asked about twenty times, but Alice is wrong about the headache. Maybe in ten years, when Elizabeth is a sixteen-year-old teenager, when I'll have had a decade to get used to the fact that she's mine, when rides like this have become commonplace, when she's asked me that question two thousand times as opposed to twenty, then I'll be one of those fathers who turns his eyes away from the windshield and exclaims, "We'll get there when we get there!"

I snort to myself because honestly, I don't even see myself doing it then. I don't see myself ever taking my daughter or her mother for granted. So instead, I navigate down the wide Long Island Expressway with sparse trees lining the road and the sun shining in the sky, chuckling.

It's a good day.

"We'll be there in about twenty minutes, Elizabeth," I assure her.

She sighs impatiently.

"She's still tired," says a quiet, beautifully accented voice next to me. "It's going to take her a few days to get used to the time difference and settle into a different pace. Thank God we can get away from the frenzy for a few days. That should help."

The frenzy.

In the couple of days since Bella, Elizabeth and Alice arrived, the press has gone wild. The picture of Elizabeth smiling up while her head rested on my shoulder graced almost every front page in the city the following day.

"**PRINCESS ELIZABETH: ANGLO-AMERICAN ROYALTY****!"** read one headline.

"**THE NEXT BRITISH INVASION!"** read another, over a picture of Elizabeth, Bella and Alice.

They can't get enough of them - of us. Overnight, the political slant has taken a back seat to a popularity contest – a contest that Bella and Elizabeth are clearly winning.

It's strange, how different the press here has greeted Bella as opposed to what they were saying about her in England.

One of this morning's headlines: "**_THIS_ IS THE NEXT CAMELOT!"**

It was accompanied by a picture of Elizabeth, Bella and I doing some food-shopping last night, with another, smaller picture of Ellie looking directly at one of the cameras, like a small deer trapped in headlights. I grimaced when I saw that picture, winced when I read the headline in my paper this morning, and then saw it again folded over Bella's kitchen table. She didn't mention it, and neither did I, but the implication is there. Though neither of us is exactly happy about this new fascination with our daughter, it's that damn headline that got to me this morning, and I'm pretty sure it got to Bella too because "The Next Camelot" is what they first called Tanya and I when we got married. I can't believe they're making comparisons - I mean, couldn't they come up with something else? And I can't imagine it's something Bella would be thrilled about.

Nonetheless, all this newfound positive publicity seems to have made things that much worse for my father and President Martin's approval ratings.

"_How could Carlisle Cullen have kept such a sweet, beautiful little girl from her father?" _

They've printed side-by-side pictures of Elizabeth's smiling face and my mother's smiling face while her father was Senator, over half a century ago, when she was a child. The resemblance is striking to say the least.

"_How could he have ever seen her as a liability?" _

Because that's what it was, the public has decided: Carlisle saw Elizabeth's birth as a deviation. He put political power over family, over his own blood.

And though there is no proof, much of the public is now convinced that the President was aware of Elizabeth's existence. They're looking at my marriage to Tanya in a completely different light.

"_Was he really happy?" _

Picture after picture is dissected, comparing what I looked like then to what I look like now. "_No,"_ most 'experts' agree_. "He always looked serene, composed, but not necessarily happy."_ Switch to a shot of me exiting the airport with Ellie in my arms and Bella's hand wrapped in mine. "_Yes," _they say_, "there he looks happy."_

And therefore, they've come up with '_The New and Improved Next Camelot._'

I sure as hell hope that dies down before we return to the City.

The President will be in touch with me soon, I'm sure of it. With the way his campaign is going, there's no way he won't be. Jasper and I have discussed it and we're pretty sure of what angle he'll take - who he'll use to extend the proverbial olive branch. He won't dare go against Bella or Elizabeth at this point. His only hope right now is damage control. Either way, I'm taking no chances - not when it comes to the two most important people in the world to me.

I'm no longer that stupid, weak man I was seven years ago. This time, I'm ready for him.

The past couple of days have been a bit hectic, that's for sure. Bella is trying hard not to let it all overwhelm her, and we're answering Elizabeth's questions as well as we can. So with Congress on vacation this week through the Labor Day weekend, we're heading to Oyster Bay, to "escape the frenzy," as Bella put it. This will give Alice and Elizabeth a week to relax before they start their respective schools…

…and hopefully give Bella and me a chance to reconnect the way we'd started doing back in England.

While Alice entertains Elizabeth in the back seat with a game of 'spot the red cars,' I reach over and rest my hand over Bella's, which rests over her warm, linen-clad leg. For a few seconds, she simply stares straight ahead…but then she turns her hand over and intertwines our fingers. Out of my periphery, I see the small smile on her beautiful face.

Yeah, a few years from now, this scene may or may not become commonplace – but this feeling, this fullness in my heart, that I'll never take for granted.

OOOOOOOOOO

"What a pretty gate!" Elizabeth proclaims as we slowly drive through the gate enclosing our property.

"So many trees!" she cries as the car makes its way down the tree-lined road leading to the main house.

"Ooh!" she exclaims when the large, white water fountain in the middle of the circular driveway comes into view. "Daddy, is this all yours?"

"Elizabeth, honey, this is _ours_."

I squeeze Bella's hand when I say it. I don't know if she understands that she's included when I say, "ours." It's not something she's ready to hear; I know that. It doesn't make it any less true.

Elizabeth jumps out of her seat as soon as the car comes to a stop.

"Ellie, wait!" Bella calls out. With a huff and grin she unbuckles herself and runs after our daughter. I move to quickly open Alice's door, so that I can follow Bella and Elizabeth, when Jasper claps me on the shoulder. He was driving his own car behind us, with Emmett and the rest of his team in another car in front.

"I've got it, Edward," Jasper says. "We'll get the luggage too. You go introduce Ellie to Mom before they both burst."

So I turn to do just that, but then stop and simply…watch…

It's a strange sight, one I once thought I'd never see: my daughter – _my daughter_ – running to the doors of the house in which I grew up, the house I once loved, but which at one point only became a reminder of everything I thought I'd never have.

"Elizabeth London, wait!" Bella insists, while I hang back and imagine the scene just slightly different...

Time. All we need is time to heal. If we're just allowed that time, we'll be okay. I know it.

OOOOOOOOOO

When the front door opens, Elizabeth freezes and turns back around, running to me and hiding behind my legs, gripping tight to my pants.

I'm surprised that she's afraid, either that or uncharacteristically shy – neither a trait which I've associated with my daughter in the short time I've known her.

But then I hear her giggling.

"She's just being silly," Bella chuckles when we reach her.

I know it probably shouldn't, but it still strikes me how much better than me Bella knows our daughter, and yeah, it stings a bit that I need Elizabeth's reactions explained to me. It makes sense though; she's had six years with her while I've barely had two months, but if time is all we need, in time I'll know her as well as Bella does.

Aunt Esme walks over to us, vibrating with so much excitement the ground before me practically quakes with it. I pick up Elizabeth, and she wraps her small arms around my neck, still giggling. I take Bella's hand again.

Esme grins from ear to ear. "Welcome back, Bella." She moves in and gives Bella a kiss on the cheek and a quick, tight hug. "It's so good to see you again."

"Thank you, Esme," Bella replies with a touch of the shyness I'd mistakenly thought I'd seen in our daughter. "It's good to see you again as well."

Esme's eyes quickly dart to the little girl wrapped around me. "And who do we have here?"

Elizabeth giggles again, gazing at our Aunt with that smile that has apparently captivated an entire nation.

I chuckle. "Aunt Esme, this little imp here is Elizabeth."

"Daddy, what's an imp?"

Esme covers her mouth and then moves it to palm her cheek. "Oh my God." Tears run down her cheeks. "She sounds just like Elizabeth at that age." She smiles through her tears. "Hi, Elizabeth. I'm your Aunt Esme. Your grandmother Elizabeth was my sister."

"Elizabeth was my other nanny's name. My daddy's mummy. I was named after her."

Aunt Esme nods, the tears still streaming over her smile. She strokes Elizabeth's face tenderly. "You look just like her," she murmurs.

"That's what my daddy says! He says I have Cullen eyes and Cullen hair, but that I have my mummy's sweet smile, as well as her nose." She taps her own nose in illustration. "So I must look like my mummy too then, mustn't I?"

Aunt Esme laughs. "Yes, you do have your mommy's smile and nose. I love your sweet little accent too."

"Mummy, you were right! They do love my accent!"

We all laugh.

"And who are these little guys?" Aunt Esme points at the stuffed bears clutched under the crook of Elizabeth's arm.

"This is Snowy, the Daddy, and his little girl, Pinky. See, she's got this pretty pink bow in her hair? Daddy gave them to me so that they'll always stay together."

"Elizabeth?" Aunt Esme holds her hands out tentatively, "may I give you a hug?"

I look down at my daughter. Slowly, she unravels her arms from my neck and reaches out for our Aunt.

Esme holds her tight, closing her eyes and sighing deeply. "Oh little girl, you have no idea what a miracle you are." She reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it tight, and then smiles over at Bella.

"Thank you," she mouths.

OOOOOOOOOO

Aunt Esme and Elizabeth hit it off from the start, just like I knew they would. We all go on a tour of the house and Elizabeth runs happily from room to room, fascinated, especially with the room she and Bella will be sharing, the one that used to be my mother's favorite because of the perfect view of the Sound. Aunt Esme has gotten it ready for them, decorating it with a small, pink vanity in one corner for Elizabeth to sit and play princess and dress-up and all that stuff that she and Bella assure me little girls like to play. She's also hung these really cool mobiles from the ceiling, with crystal half-moons and stars that catch the light streaming in from the balcony. There's a bookshelf in the shape of a dollhouse at the other corner with what looks to be about a thousand children's books for Elizabeth to choose from.

Elizabeth doesn't know what to look at first.

"Ellie, Darling, why don't you go take a look at what's outside those doors there," Bella coaxes.

Elizabeth drops the books she'd been flipping through and runs to the balcony doors. Half a second later we hear a loud and thrilled squeal.

Bella laughs. "I always knew she'd love that view." She follows Elizabeth out, and I watch them, sighing in contentment.

"Alice, honey, would you like me to show you to your room? It's right down the hall," Aunt Esme says.

"Thank you, Mrs. Platt. That would be lovely," Alice replies. "Ellie, Munchkin," Alice calls out, "come with Aunty Alice to see _my_ room now!"

Ellie runs out like a flash and takes Alice's hand, and before they walk out, Alice reaches up on the tips of her toes and whispers,

"I'll keep Ellie company round the house for a while. Go spend some time with my sister. She needs some help relaxing these last few days."

She pulls back and gives me a playful wink. I chuckle as they walk out of the room.

Bella is standing by the balcony when I come up behind her, just as I did last time she was here. She gazes quietly at the rolling waves pulling into shore. Unlike last time though, this time I go ahead and give in to my need and wrap my arms around her waist. I'm no longer afraid that she'll push me away. She relaxes into me, placing her hands over mine, leaning back and resting her head on my shoulder. I place a soft kiss behind her ear.

"Tired?" I whisper.

"A bit," she admits.

Bella has been a bit subdued since her arrival in New York. I can only imagine everything running through her head. She's tired, yes; I know only too well now the stresses of repeated travel over two very different time zones. Adding to that is the publicity now surrounding our daughter, which doesn't thrill either one of us. She assuages her discomfort by telling herself that it's all only for one year.

I don't think so.

I mean, it's not as if I'm planning on physically holding her down or anything at the end of the one year period, I simply don't plan on letting them go. Ever. In all fairness, I think some part of her is fully aware of this regardless of how much she repeats this "one year" business. In fact, I think she repeats it so much because she _knows_ it's not true, she just isn't ready to accept it yet.

And that's okay. It's only been a couple of days. I'm not going to force her to face it yet. She's made a huge sacrifice here, I realize and appreciate that with all my heart. She's left her country of birth, where she's lived her entire life, she's turned down a lucrative job offer, left behind friends, family. In return, I'll do whatever I have to do to make it up to her, to make her happy here, to make her _want_ to stay.

I would've gone over there. Once my term as congressman was over, I would've made the move to England if I'd had to because this distance between me and the two most important women in my life wasn't something I would've been able to deal with much longer. But she's agreed to give me a year here – and at the end of that year, I'll do whatever I have to do to keep us all together in one place.

She angles her head sideways to look up at me. "I do apologize if my eyes look puffy."

She's referring to what I said to her that morning that she, Michael Newton and I had brunch together to prepare for the article. But she's giving me a wry grin at the same time.

I dip down my head and kiss both of her eyes, first one then the other.

"Your eyes _don't_ look puffy, and even if they did, I wouldn't care and you know that. They didn't look puffy that day either," I assure her. We both know what we're talking about and it's not necessary for me to add that I only said what I said that first time because I was so fucking blind with jealousy that I couldn't see straight.

She snorts and turns back to the shore, sighing.

"Bella, I know you're feeling overwhelmed right now. I'm going to try to make this transition for you and Elizabeth, and Alice," I add, "as easy as possible."

"I know you are, Edward." I can hear the smile in her voice. "It's just going to take some getting used to, and I suppose that by the time Ellie and I do get used to it, it'll be time to head back home to England."

I roll my eyes - but don't say anything.

"Besides, Alice doesn't seem as if she's going to need much help adjusting, does she?" She chuckles. "She's been up quite early for the past few days, taking walks about the neighborhood, meeting new mates, she says. I think she'll be quite alright."

"She's a lot like you were at nineteen."

"God, I hope not."

"Why do you say that?"

She turns around in my arms and rests her palms on my chest. I drop my hands but hold on to the railing at either side of her, keeping her caged between my arms. The heat of her proximity is such a different heat from that in the air. It burns me to the core, and I can't stop myself from moving in closer. I don't know how much longer I can go without touching her. What I feel for Bella is way beyond sexual, but that doesn't mean I don't dream of being inside her all hours of the day – and night.

"I just hope she remains focused on her studies while we're here. I wouldn't want her to be completely derailed by some smooth-talking, handsome American bloke and completely forget what she set out for."

I grimace, shutting my eyes tight while a sharp, twinge of pain twists around in my chest.

"Bloody hell, Edward, I didn't mean it that way."

I keep my eyes shut. Though I know what she's implying is true, it's still painful to hear.

Her warm hand palms my cheek. "Edward…Edward, I wasn't referring to us. I was speaking in general terms. Don't take it that way," she urges. "I simply meant we're only going to be here for one year. I don't want Alice to get sidetracked."

I nod slowly, but still can't completely shake the ache from her words.

"Hey," she says. I know the smile I give her is faint. But when she gets on her toes and puts her mouth on mine, that ache instantly disappears. This is the very first kiss she's initiated since our weekend in that London suite, and I groan into her mouth, forgetting everything other than what this woman does to me, what she means to me – which is everything.

"I'm sor-"

"Shh." She sucks on my lips, cutting off my apology. "Just kiss me, Edward. Just kiss me."

And for a quiet a long while afterwards, I do just that.

OOOOOOOOOO

Bella does appear more carefree for the rest of the afternoon. We won't be bothered here. No press, no Carlisle, no President. We take Elizabeth out on the beach and she's ecstatic, running up and down the shoreline while we all take turns chasing her.

Emmett and his guys periodically walk along the perimeter of the house. I see him giving them all instructions while they all remain right on the periphery of things; close enough to do their jobs, but far enough away to give us privacy. He and I have discussed what security measures I need and expect for my family while we're here, as well as for Elizabeth and Bella from now on. As head of their security detail, I entrust their well-being to him, and it's not trust I place lightly. There's no one else in this world other than he who I'd be able to trust with this job.

But Emmett is more than just our head of security. He _is_ family.

He's standing off by the eastern side of the house, his arms crossed against his chest while he watches us throw a Frisbee around on the beach.

"Come join us," I suggest.

"Maybe later," he grins. "I want to make sure we get everything running smoothly around here first."

"You alright, Man? You've seemed a bit…off since you came back from England."

He meets my eyes. "I'm fine." And then stares off at my family at play again.

OOOOOOOOOO

Emmett does join us for dinner. We barbecue out on the grill on the deck leading to the beach, talking and getting to know each other like a family.

Later on, Emmett and Jasper decide to take on Elizabeth, Alice and Aunt Esme in a game of Beach Volleyball. Only Jasper and I know that his mom was a champion volleyball player back in college, so the females pretty much dominate the rest of the game.

So while Emmett howls and moans as he gets his ass whipped at Volleyball, Bella and I sit back on a beach blanket and laugh at him.

I drop my head onto her lap with a deep sigh, watching them, and then I feel her playing with my hair. My family's laughter carries in the air while the waves break quietly against the shore and the cool breeze brushes my skin. I close my eyes, relaxing into pretty much perfection.

"What are you humming?"

I open my eyes back up. The sun from the afternoon has already given Bella's cheeks a rosy tint. She looks carefree, uninhibited by all the crazy going on just beyond the gates to this house.

"I hadn't even realized I was humming."

"Well you were," she smiles, "for about the past fifteen minutes."

"It's a song I haven't heard since I was a kid growing up in this house. Something my mom used to sing."

She nods, her dark eyes sparkling, her hand running back and forth along the nape of my neck, gripping and grabbing my hair with each pass. I groan in pleasure.

I guess it's the open, relaxed expression on her face, the peacefulness of the moment, that gives me the balls to ask the next question.

"Bella…"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you need to sleep in the same room with Elizabeth?"

She laughs at me, pretty heartily I might add, but there's a glint in her eyes...it makes me hopeful despite her apparent amusement.

"Why, Edward?" She quirks a brow. "What did you have in mind for my sleeping arrangements?"

One corner of my mouth lifts up lazily. "Well…I mean…there are _other_ bedrooms..."

"Are there?" She gazes at me mischievously, tugging harder at my hair. I close my eyes and hiss through my teeth. "Is there one room in particular you have in mind for me, or are we just speaking in general terms?"

I can't help it; my heart thumps and my cock twitches at the way she's looking at me, at the playfulness in her voice, at the fact that she hasn't totally shot me down yet, at the feel of her fingers pulling at my hair even harder.

"There may be one in particular."

She bites her lip, and there's no longer amusement in her eyes. They're dark and intent. Her chest rises and falls more rapidly than it did just a few moments ago. I reach up and trace the outline of her soft mouth with two fingers, waiting for her answer…in all honesty, I'm praying to the high heavens.

She holds me locked in her smoldering gaze and then wraps her hand around the one I have moving over her lips, and places a soft, wet kiss over my fingers. I inhale unevenly...

"I don't think Ellie would like that idea, Edward. I've always slept with her back home except when I've been away. And this is a new place to her, regardless of how excited she is. Besides…" her eyes bore into mine, dark and intense, "…regardless of how easily Ellie seems to be taking to us hand-holding, it's a big leap from there to her seeing her mother and father wake up in bed together. How would we explain it to her if things didn't work out between us?"

I snort, my mind and heart warring with disappointment and understanding. Yeah, I understand everything she's saying. I may even agree, but I'm having a hard time explaining that to my cock.

I reach up and cradle her face in my hands. "I'll be honest with you, Bella. You and I not working out - that's not really an option for me."

She chuckles, searching my eyes. "Just give me a little more time to catch up to where you are, Edward. Physically, I'm there. I've always been there physically when it comes to you, and I think you know that very well."

I can't repress a smirk.

She rolls her eyes.

"But emotionally…I _am_ a bit overwhelmed by everything that's going on. You're right about that. I don't want to jump into bed with you and then play catch up later. My mum has always helped me with Ellie, and if I don't have my head screwed on just right now, who'll be there if I mess up?"

"Bella, you won't mess up, and _I'll_ be there," I remind her.

She smiles tenderly and then takes one of my hands and places it over her heart.

"I know that. I do know that here." She moves my hand up to the side of her head. "Just give me a little more time to completely know it here, okay?"

I nod, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed, but yes, I understand what she's saying.

I pick up my head a bit and guide hers down and soon she's sucking so intently on my lips that each pull goes straight to my groin, and I understand what she means when she says she's always been there physically. Our physical response to each other has always been instant, from the first moment our eyes met, from that very first touch. And while I've spent the past seven years craving not only those physical reactions she elicited in me, but the emotional reactions as well, she spent the last seven years practically hating me.

I suppose that is something that may take some time to get over.

The truth is – and I don't mean this in any presumptuous or arrogant manner – that if I just pushed a bit harder, I could probably convince Bella to sleep with me soon; tonight. If it touch her the way I touched her then…if I keep kissing her this way and letting her kiss _me_ this way…

But I won't play those games with Bella. The first time I took her to bed I damned the consequences and they came back to bite us in the ass immediately afterwards. I loved her then – even though I was an arrogant, thoughtless, weak asshole.

I love her infinitely more now.

With one final peck, I pull away from her mouth and grin up at her.

Her lips are swollen, her eyes confused, but she grins back. "Soon..."

I drop my head to her lap again, and keep humming my mother's song.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? I missed hearing from you guys earlier this week.**

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**My little Zombie Apocalypse Prophet is sooo excited for this weekend! He's got his fifth grade moving up ceremony, plus Mommy (me) is taking him to see World War Z! (Hey, he lives and breathes Black Ops Zombies. How much worse can this be?)**

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	33. Chapter 33 Sleeping Arrangements

**A/N: Thanks so much for your prayers for little Hailey. If you can continue praying, that would be so wonderful of you. :)**

**TCL was nominated for the second time for Fic of the Week over at The Lemonade Stand. I can't tell you how honored I am. I love you guys so friggin' much for voting and for indulging me by reading this little story of mine. I truly hope you enjoy these last few chapters, and as a 'thank you' for giving me so much love, I'll be posting another chapter on Friday!**

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**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Ch. 33 Sleeping Arrangements**

**Chapter Song Rec: _Ho Hey_ by The Lumineers**

* * *

For the next few days, we spend lazy mornings and laid-back afternoons out on the beach. Elizabeth is in love with the entire atmosphere here in Oyster Cove. We take out the boat, and when I let her steer, she swears she's going to grow up to be a boat captain. Sometimes it's not just a physical resemblance, but the things she does and says that remind me of myself at that age, and I wonder if she's always been so much like me. I may never have a complete picture of what my daughter was like before age six other than through pictures, videos, and memories Bella and everyone else that watched my daughter grow up can share with me. But I know what she's like now, and I swear to myself that regardless of what the future may have in store, she'll always know she's loved by both parents. She will _never_ become a pawn in a game of political power. Bella and I will guide her, but Elizabeth's future will always be hers to decide – even if she does want to grow up to be a boat captain.

We take long walks around the property. Tall evergreens and wide, red maples shade us from both the last of the summer sun and possible roving eyes. It's a good sized property, big enough to keep Elizabeth busy and happy; she skips over the dewy green grass in the wee hours of the morning, singing songs around the shady trees while the birds chirp from up above. She makes her way across the clammy sand that sticks to her feet. She jumps over the rocky path that borders the beach. And the entire way, she sheds piece after piece of clothing until she's only left in her swimsuit. Even her sunhat gets discarded along the way despite all of Bella's protests.

One morning, halfway through our week, Aunt Esme volunteers to watch Elizabeth by the pool so that I can take Bella to the tennis court for a lesson to which she's been looking forward. Alice and Jasper come along to double up with us, and I remind myself that I've got to find a minute to thank Jasper for hanging out here this week. I know he'd made plans with some friends for the week, but he and Aunt Esme have been great at keeping Alice entertained and feeling welcome while Bella, Elizabeth and I reconnect as a family. Yeah, I've got to find time to thank him.

Anyway, the tennis lesson turns out to be more challenging than I'd expected it to be. Bella misses almost every ball that comes her way. Jasper has better luck with Alice, who Bella accuses of having inherited the better share of hand-to-eye coordination in the Swan family.

It appears to be somewhat true, though that's not what makes the lesson so friggin' tough to get through. Bella is, in fact, a really good sport about performing so poorly. Most of the time, she laughs off her misses and missteps.

It's her outfit that's killing me. She's wearing one of those short, white tennis skirts, and every time she jumps, so does her skirt – and so does my cock.

My lesson is pretty off, to say the least.

I send another ball her way, and she jumps high to try to hit it with her racket, but all I see are her golden thighs coming back down to the ground. I turn in a semi-circle and groan quietly to myself.

I can do this.

While we're walking back to the main house, Alice and Jasper trail behind us rather slowly. Alice did pretty well, so I suppose she's tired. Either way, it gives me a chance to talk to Bella about a surprise I'd like to give our daughter, and to get her opinion on it.

She laughs when I tell her.

"You're spoiling your daughter."

It sends a warm current through me when she refers to Elizabeth as "_your daughter_," as opposed to the way she used to refer to her just a couple of short months ago: "_my daughter_." It's as if she's finally, fully accepted in her heart that Elizabeth is as much mine as she is hers. In that instant, as in so many others, I'm dying to tell her just how much I love her. Not just because she looks so damned delicious in that tennis outfit, but also because with those simple words, she's showing me her heart.

But I don't want to rush her. I can wait.

So instead I simply shrug, shaking my head. "I don't think I am. I don't think Elizabeth can be spoiled. She's…unspoilable," I grin.

Bella chuckles while swatting my arm with the tennis racket. "Unspoilable. I'm pretty sure that's not a word. I hope you don't use words like unspoilable in any of the speeches you give before Congress, _Congressman_ Cullen."

She's teasing me. In the past few days, I catch more and more glimpses of the Bella I first met, that young, carefree, trusting young woman I first fell in love with.

I turn and stop, and she comes to a quick halt before me. When I dart my eyes to Alice and Jasper, they're still lagging way behind.

A slow, one-sided grin forms on my mouth. "I apologize for my lacking verbal skills, but that's what happens when you wear outfits like that around me."

The past few days of our American summer sun have given her body a golden glow that stands out beautifully against all that damn white. My eyes purposely roam up and down her frame, from the little white tank top that ends just above her belly button, giving me a glimpse of her midriff, paired with that little white skirt that flows in the breeze and shows off her sleek, shapely tanned legs.

"You're making me forget how to speak, much less swing a tennis racket," I tease her back. "And we're back to calling me Congressman Cullen are we?"

A flirtatious glint lights up her eyes. It's not something I'm used to seeing in Bella – not even back when we first met. No, she's not the same Bella she was seven years ago. I suppose neither one of us can ever be the same, but that's a good thing. We're trying to move forward, not backwards.

"Ah, I _thought_ that was a pretty poor tennis lesson," she snickers, moving closer to me, "but I didn't want to embarrass you by saying anything. Still, I don't think it's fair for you to blame my outfit, _Congressman, _after all, it _is_ the proper outfit one wears to play tennis, isn't it?" she adds in a seductively low voice, twirling slowly in front of me.

A low groan forms deep within my chest. She hears it, and places a warm hand over it, tilting her head up to me and holding my gaze. "As for your verbal skills, _Congressman_, I don't believe for one second that they're at all lacking. You're a pretty smooth talker there, Sir. You always have been."

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her in quick, making her gasp sharply in surprise when her body is flush against mine. Her eyes twinkle wickedly though, so I reach out with my tennis racket and swat that ass that's been torturing me all morning.

"Oomph!" She looks slightly bewildered, staring at me for a few seconds before speaking, and just when I think I may have gone too far, she grins. "Did you just swat me arse with that tennis racket? You're a cheeky Congressman there, you are. What would your fellow party members say about that?"

God, I love it when she reverts to her cockney.

"You're the one being cheeky, Love, with those ass-cheeks there just begging to be swatted."

Her eyes widen. I see her cheeks flush brightly beyond the beautiful golden glow she's developed over the past few days. She swallows thickly and then gives me a lopsided grin.

"I guess I'll just have to cover me arse-cheeks properly from now on then, won't I?" She moves in and gets on the tips of her toes, whispering in my ear. "I'd hate to be the blame for your use of non-existent words in front of your colleagues." Her mouth moves in closer with each word, until her lips are grazing my earlobe and my cock is throbbing. "Or for unseemly bumps that may appear while you're in the middle of a tennis lesson."

When she moves away, she keeps her eyes on mine, watching me release more than a few uneven sighs.

"_Bella_…you're teasing me. That's not very nice."

She smiles innocently. "Let's go, Love. Our daughter is probably waiting for us."

I stand there, with my heart about to beat out of my chest and my cock straining against my board shorts while Bella saunters off in front of me, leaving me with a pretty great view of those afore-mentioned ass cheeks - and a pretty painful ache in my groin.

OOOOOOOOOO

In the past couple of days, Elizabeth has taken to calling Aunt Esme, "Nanny Esme." I suppose because Esme reminds her of her grandmother back in England, with the way she both nurtures and at the same time gently reins in my admittedly exuberant daughter.

"Do you mind?" Aunt Esme asked me nervously after Elizabeth had started with the habit.

It _is_ sort of bittersweet for me; more than a few times, I've imagined a world where my mother got to meet her granddaughter, and I've imagined Elizabeth calling her "Nanny" in that sweet little accent of hers. But as short a time as I had with my mother, I knew her heart.

"No, Aunt Esme, I don't mind," I responded honestly. "I think Mom would be thrilled right now."

Aunt Esme reached out and squeezed my hand gratefully.

OOOOOOOOOO

When we arrive at the pool, we find that Emmett has joined Esme and Elizabeth. They're all in the water playing water volleyball. Emmett appears to be having a hard time accepting that my aunt can whoop his ass at any form of volleyball. In just ten seconds standing there watching them, I can already tell he's losing big time - and he's not happy about it.

He roars when my Aunt spikes one into the water right next to him.

"Damn it! Elizabeth, you get your butt over here and play on my team now! Your Nan doesn't need your help; I do!"

He probably shouldn't be using that kind of language around her, but I can't help chuckling quietly when Elizabeth giggles and makes her way under the net to Emmett's side.

Emmett takes his job as Ellie's personal bodyguard extremely seriously – even more so than he took being my personal security, and that's saying something. But then again, at the time, that was more to appease my aunt; at no point did either he or I perceive myself to be in any sort of danger.

I pray every morning and night that for all the prep Emmett and his team go through, Elizabeth and Bella will never truly need them.

As it is, Emmett rarely strays far from Elizabeth. He'd never come out and say it, but I know she's stolen his heart. I see it in the intensity with which he watches her – as if he'd lay his life on the line for her. He doesn't coddle her, but at the same time, he's devoted to her. He's like the uncle that teaches your kid all the rough and tumble crap you wouldn't teach them yourself. In return, Elizabeth has accepted him as her family – which he is. After everything he and I have gone through together, he's my brother for all intents and purposes.

Before long, Bella and I have joined in the game - Bella on Aunt Esme's "team" and Elizabeth and I on Emmett's, and though Bella's lack of hand-to-eye coordination seems to have followed her into volleyball, Esme still kicks our asses.

"Alright, I've had enough of getting my butt handed to me this morning; I'm out," I call out, hopping over the ledge of the pool.

"You and me both," Emmett mutters.

I shake the water out of my hair and run the towel across my bare shoulders and chest – and catch Bella looking at me. Her eyes are intent on my chest, and she's biting her lip, and that look goes straight to my groin – again.

She looks up and sees that I've caught her staring, and instead of looking embarrassed, she grins that slow, seductive grin again. I wink at her.

But then Elizabeth demands her attention for something, and she looks away.

Emmett and I catch up over the lounge chairs, bullshitting and relaxing after weeks of madness. No, I haven't forgotten that there's a world outside of these walls that's as insane as it was a few days ago, but for now, for a few more days, we can pretend it doesn't exist.

"Em, I want to thank you again for looking after Elizabeth and Bella in England and for the job you and your team are doing here."

He's got his eyes closed, his face up to the sky, catching the rays. He gives me a small nod to show me that the words registered. I lay my head back across my own chair and close my eyes, listening to Elizabeth's giggles while Esme tries to teach her and Bella the basics of pool volleyball.

"I care about them, Man, even if neither of them can play any form of volleyball for shit. And besides…I made a promise."

I smile, eyes still closed. "Renee made you promise that you'd watch over all of them, didn't she?" I assume he's probably giving me a small nod like he did before.

"She did…as did others."

His tone is non-committal. I lift my head up curiously, but he's still got his eyes closed.

"Where's Jasper?" he asks abruptly.

"Jasper?"

Wait, where the hell is Jasper? I run a hand through my wet hair.

"He's probably playing another game of tennis with Alice. She's pretty good, unlike her sister." Emmett snickers, and I lay my head back down, once more closing my eyes. "He's actually been a big help in keeping Alice busy while Bella, Elizabeth and I spend time together. Poor kid, I wouldn't want her to get bored, especially since _you've_ been too busy for her to fawn over," I say, referring to Alice's not-too-secret crush on Emmett.

He chuckles. "Yeah, well. Can't blame the kid for having a thing for me, now can you?"

I snort.

"Just kidding. She's a good kid. Jasper's good to help you out like that. Guess he's still trying to earn his forgiveness, huh?"

"He's already earned it."

"It's always good to forgive, Edward," Emmett says after a pause, "especially when someone is truly sorry. In the end, it might help bring you closer to the closure you need."

When I open my eyes, he's no longer leaning against his chair with his eyes closed, but he's watching me intently, his expression solemn and unusually humorless.

"Emmett, what-"

"Daddy, Nanny Esme says she's going to teach me to swim now so that I don't have to wear this ugly vest anymore!"

Bella walks our way, taking a seat next to me on the lounger. In the background, I hear Aunt Esme assuring Elizabeth that she'll still need to wear her vest when she's on the boat with me.

"I don't know how to swim myself, or else I would've taught her," Bella admits sheepishly.

I wrap an arm around her and pull her closer to me. Her beautiful legs rub against mine, and I wish I could feel the rest of her skin, but she's thrown a terry cover-up on. Her swimsuits this week have been pretty modest as it is. Don't get me wrong, they look great on her, but they also keep her pretty well covered, and my imagination is running rampant by now. I spend nights picturing her in tiny triangle tops and bottoms that barely cover anything…

Unless I want to pop a tent right in front of my daughter and the rest of my family, I better stop thinking these things.

"I'll teach you how to swim," I promise her.

"Thanks. I much prefer the warmth over here."

The smile she gives me makes me think she's talking about more than just the warmth of the water.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning, Seth and Paul take a drive into town with me, and when we return, Bella spots me first. She walks my way with a knowing grin spread across her face. She's got a black one-piece on with a white terry front-zip sweatshirt over it. Her dark hair looks wavier than usual these days, the salt water and sand curling it at the ends and where it frames her face. She looks heartbreakingly beautiful, and I just want to pick her up and carry her inside.

"Did you get it?" she asks.

I blink, forcing myself to focus, and nod, grinning smugly at her when I give her a glimpse of what I'm carrying wrapped in a blanket at my side.

She draws in a deep breath, eyes sparkling.

"Well, show it to your daughter, then."

"Elizabeth!" I call out, my voice admittedly shaking with excitement.

She sees me and comes running.

"Daddy, where were you this morning? Mummy said you had errands to run," she calls out, answering her own question. "What do you have there, Daddy?"

She squeals in delight when she spots it, and I exhale in relief because for two seconds, I actually started doubting how well I know my own daughter, and whether or not this was something she'd even want. But she takes him out of my arms and holds him up in the air, blinking rapidly as if she can't believe her own wide eyes, and then snuggles him into her gently, yet so firmly.

"My puppy - you got me a puppy, Daddy," she breathes in disbelief.

"He's from both your mom and me. We both got him for you." I reach over and take Bella's hand, and she folds her fingers within mine, squeezing tightly.

The puppy reaches its small, black head up and licks Elizabeth's face, long ears slapping against her cheeks as he goes to town. Elizabeth squeals again.

"Thank you, Mummy and Daddy! I love him! I love him already, and look, he loves me too!"

Bella chuckles, reaching out and petting the curly, black fur on the puppy's back. He's a golden retriever/poodle mix, still small, but I've been warned to expect him to grow quite a bit, and I've warned Bella, since he'll be spending time between both our homes – that is, until I convince her to make my home hers.

"He does love you, Darling."

"Mummy, Daddy, may I name him?"

"Well, you'd better name him. We can't call him puppy forever," I tease her.

"Oh my goodness, what do you have there, Ellie?" Alice questions, walking over. She gives a high-pitched squeal as loud as Ellie's. "A puppy! Bella and I always did want a dog. May I hold him, El?"

Ellie hands him over hesitantly. "Be very gentle, Aunty Alice. He's a little puppy."

Everyone gathers around and fawns over Elizabeth's new puppy.

I pull Bella against my side as we stand there watching our daughter and our newest family member. Leaning into her ear, I whisper,

"You know, there's a reason other than companionship for why I wanted to get Elizabeth a dog."

She looks up at me. "Oh? And what is that?"

I grin at her and then move my mouth to her ear once more, brushing her earlobe with my lips.

"Maybe Elizabeth will be satisfied with having someone else sleep at her side, and free you to make…alternative sleeping arrangements."

She chuckles huskily, turning darkened eyes back up to me. "You have a one-track mind there, Congressman, don't you?"

We hold each other's gazes.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next day during breakfast out on the back deck, we're watching the waves lap gently towards the sand before breaking against the brown and grey rocks, and Aunt Esme, out of the blue, seems to take pity on me. Either that or we're on somewhat of the same wavelength because she skillfully brings up Bella and Elizabeth's sleeping arrangements and tactfully suggests that Elizabeth may be getting too old to sleep with a parent more than just occasionally, and that now that she'll be starting first grade, it's probably time for her to have her own bedroom.

Bella tells Esme that it started more out of necessity, since they lived with Renee in a small home in Leigh, but then they just both got used to it. So while I hear the choirs of heaven singing quietly in a corner of my mind, she agrees that it might be time to break that habit for the both of them.

Besides, with Oyster around now (Oyster is the name that both Alice and Elizabeth picked out for her Goldendoodle) it might be easier to get Elizabeth used to sleeping in a room without her.

So it's settled, Esme agrees that it's a great idea - as if she hadn't come up with it herself, and when Bella walks off to help Elizabeth feed Oyster his morning meal, my aunt looks at me and grins.

Have I become that sadly transparent?

OOOOOOOOOO

That evening, Bella and I settle Ellie into bed, with Oyster in his tufted red pillow at the foot. We read her a couple of stories, kiss her goodnight, leave a night light on for her, and only close the door half-way while Bella reminds her that she'll be just down the hall in her own bedroom, and that I'll be in my room at the end of the hall.

We look at each other and Bella shrugs. "We'll see."

We're out on the beach, lying on a blanket and staring up at the stars. They're much clearer out here than in the city because there's no interference from skyscraper lights and street lamps. The sound of water breaking at the shore fills the background.

"And that one there is Cassiopeia," I inform Bella, pointing out some of the constellations I remember from when I was a kid. "See? You can recognize it because it's shaped like a "W." The one to the south of it is Andromeda, and to the east of it there, you see? That's Perseus. According to mythology, Cassiopeia bragged that her daughter Andromeda was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, and as punishment, her daughter was to be sacrificed to a sea monster, but Perseus the demi-god saved her from that fate and then claimed her as his."

I feel Bella's eyes on me, so I turn towards her.

She laughs. "You are such a smooth-talker."

I grin at her, furrowing my brows. "I'm not doing anything other than giving you a lesson in star-gazing." I reach over and snake one arm under her waist and wrap the other one around her, moving them up under her arms and lifting her over me. "It's not my fault if you find that sexy."

She laughs again. When I lift my head, she presses her mouth to mine, licking at my lips with her warm tongue. I open up eagerly, but when I snake my hands under her zipped up sweatshirt, I find a pleasant surprise.

"This isn't a one-piece," I grin against her mouth.

She shakes her head slowly and sits up over me, reaching down to the hem of her sweatshirt and lifting it up.

The choirs of angels sing once again at the revelation of a tiny, triangle shaped white bikini top paired with an equally small piece of cloth covering her bottom.

I swallow thickly, unable to form words when she lunges herself at me and for what feels like hours yet nowhere near enough time, we kiss under the stars and over the sand, rolling around over and over so that sometimes she's on top, and sometimes I am. Her entire warm body is pressed against mine; I grope her unapologetically, and she pulls all the harder on my hair, making me groan. Seven years ago, my hair was much shorter than it is now. I was actually thinking of getting a haircut before Congress met again next Tuesday, but now I may hold off on that idea.

She sits up over me again, and I can feel her heat through the pitifully small cloth covering her, right through my straining board shorts. My mouth closes over the silky material of one triangle top, right over her hardened nipple, and she moans, licking and sucking my neck.

I've got to admit though, that when Bella lifts her head up and spits just to my side, I'm offended for just a moment. Then she does it again.

"You're all bloody sandy!"

I throw myself against the blanket, howling with laughter while she drops over me and does the same, wrapping her arms around my neck and burrowing her head under my chin.

We lie there for one long moment, letting our laughter subside while I rub my chin over her temple. When she shifts her hips slightly and hits my erect cock, I can't suppress a moan.

"Bella…Ellie has her own room now. You have your own room now. Has your head caught up to the rest of you?" I can't withhold the tone of hope – or probably more accurately labeled, desperation – ringing in my every word.

She laughs lightly. "It's getting there."

"Mm. Is there…anything I can do to speed the process along?"

She picks her head up and laughs. "Not very subtle, are you?"

I wrap my hands around her face. "You're driving me crazy, and you know it. A bit of a tease, aren't you?"

She gasps and pretends to be offended, lifting her body off of mine and storming off, leaving me exposed to the beach's night breeze.

"I'm going to bed."

"Promises, promises," I mutter, making her laugh at me again, but when I pick her up off the ground and cradle her in my arms she squeals.

"Edward, put me down!"

"Yeah? You sure you want me to put you down?"

"Yes! Put me down now!"

"You asked for it," I sneer, and then run towards the water.

"What are you doing?" she whispers. "Edward, no. No, Edward, no!" she pleads, but we're both laughing and moaning at the cold water lapping at us. I don't stop until it hits my chest, and her entire body is submerged except for her head.

"Oh my God, don't forget I can't swim, Edward. Please don't let go of me. Please don't let go of me." She holds on tightly to my neck.

All the while, I simply gaze at her in all her glory. She's got a perfect body. I remember that weekend. Yeah, her body was perfect then, but she seems to have filled out a bit since: her breasts are a bit rounder, her hips just slightly wider. The other women I've been with, tall and thin and blonde and purposely the opposite of everything Bella was…they can't touch her, they never could.

"_Bella_…I'll _never_ let go of you."

The stars and the moon sparkle in the night sky but there's no more beautiful sight than my Bella illuminated by their glow.

"I lo-"

Before I can get the words out, she wraps her body around me and crashes her mouth to mine. I suck on her sea-salted lips, plumped up from the cold. When I nip at her neck, trailing wet kisses down her chest, she wraps her hands around my head and guides my mouth back to hers, kissing me slow and tender now; all the while she's whispering something, but I can't quite concentrate enough to hear it. But she keeps whispering and whispering. Finally, I force myself to break away from her mouth and listen.

"Please…please…please…" she pleads while sucking on my collarbone.

"Please, what, Love?"

Her eyes meet mine, the light from the moon reflecting off her almost black pupils.

"Please, take me to your bed."

When her mouth crashes against mine again, there's nothing slow or tender about the way she snakes her tongue inside my mouth.

"Take me inside," she breathes against my lips. "Take me to your bed, Edward."

My heart races in my chest, and my cock twitches underwater. I cradle her in my arms once more and quickly make our way out of the water, through the wet sand and up towards our bedrooms; all the while we're kissing and chuckling like young kids about to get laid for the first time ever. Lifting my leg to help support her in my arms, I drop a hand to my doorknob, twisting and turning to open the bedroom door.

I grin proudly once I have us inside. "Are you-"

Her eyes move beyond me, and she closes her eyes, snorting. I follow the trajectory of her gaze-

-to the form of a tiny little girl, sitting up wide-eyed on my bed, her puppy asleep at her feet.

"Mummy, Daddy, where have you been? I've been looking for you. I looked for you in your room, Mummy, and then came to look for Daddy."

There are no words to describe my total and utter despair. My shoulders droop, my chest deflates - as do other parts of my anatomy. Carefully and regrettably, I lower Bella's feet to the floor.

"Mummy and Daddy are right here, Darling." Bella looks up at me, clearly reading the misery that I'm in. With an apologetic smile, she gets on the tips of her toes and whispers in my ear. "This is all part of being a parent, Love."

All I can manage is a faint smile.

In the morning when I wake up, right before I open my eyes, there are about five seconds that go by in which I have no idea why my feet are so damned hot or why I'm at the very edge of the bed.

But then I feel the small, warm body snuggled into my side – as well as the other warm body next to her, the smooth hip under my outstretched arm.

When I open my eyes, the sun's rays are bouncing off of my daughter's long, copper hair, splayed against my stomach. I look beyond her at where my hand is wrapped around her mother's creamy, soft hip, and then up into her beautiful face, still sleeping soundly.

I snort quietly, because Bella and I did end up sleeping together last night – with Elizabeth right between us.

And Oyster at my feet.

It actually did turn out to be one of the best nights of my life.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Alright, alright. Maybe we have taken the cock-blocking as far as it can go. :)**

*****Remember, another update on Friday…one more EPOV…*****

**And yeah, update schedule will continue to be erratic for the next couple of weeks. Sorry, guys!**

**Twitter: Pattyrosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	34. Chapter 34 - Again

**A/N: Thanks so much, you guys, for continuing to pray for little Hailey.**

**And thank you for voting for me over at The Lemonade Stand! TCL won the poll for the second time. Words can't describe how touched I am, and grateful that you guys enjoy this story enough to vote it as FOTW TWICE! I'm sure this has happened before, but never to me, and well, yeah...I'm touched. :) I'll let you all know when the feature is up on the site. :)**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**And well...without further ado, please read on and meet me at the end. :)**

* * *

**Ch. 34 – Again**

**EPOV**

The next three nights are a lesson in how to get your six-year-old daughter to sleep in her own bed.

After the first night, Bella and Esme have a talk with Ellie about being a big girl, a talk which manages to keep her in her own bed - for most of the night. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning, Bella informs us, that Ellie tip-toed into her mother's bedroom, snuggling in next to her, Oyster once again at their feet.

The following night, Esme helps get Elizabeth ready for the evening, telling her stories of how princesses sleep in their own beds. Something she says seems to do the trick, because Elizabeth stays in her bed that entire night!

Unfortunately, by the next night, she's back to sneaking into Bella's bed in the early hours.

The Saturday before Labor Day, we take the boat out to watch the town's annual fireworks display explode over the Long Island Sound. Elizabeth watches the light show in wonder, pointing out the pretty colors to Oyster, until he starts shaking so hard that she takes him below deck, to the bedroom, "so he can take a nap and feel better." Esme accompanies her, while the rest of us finish watching the show, Bella and I with our hands and legs tangled together over the boat's deck while the blackened water reflects the bursting colors above us.

We've been here for exactly a week, and we only have a couple of days left before we have to return to the real world, but in this one week I feel as if I've gotten to know my daughter and Bella better than I have in the past two months. Things will get hectic again once we venture out of the Estate, I know they will. Congress starts a two-week session on Tuesday, the government's case against my father continues to build, the President's popularity numbers continue to plummet, and with every day that passes his re-election is on shakier ground. Remaining silent on the Bella and Elizabeth issue isn't doing the trick for him anymore, and that knowledge worries me, because it's hard for Jasper and I to predict exactly which way he'll go once he breaks his silence. Either way, we have to be ready, and so even though I'd love to keep all those problems as far away from our vacation this week as possible, Bella and I have discussed it. I need her ready, regardless of what occurs.

We've built a strong base in this past week. We have family, we have friends who are there for us, and most of all, we finally have each other.

OOOOOOOOOO

I take an extra long, cool shower that night right before getting in bed, washing off the sea salt and sand, mentally attempting to foresee every move Martin and my father can still make, and what I can do to mitigate them. There are a few obvious ones, as well some that are not so obvious. My shoulders feel a bit tense, sensing the end of this short reprieve from reality. They're also a bit burnt from a long week of sun, so I rub some aloe onto them as well as onto my chest, which has also gotten quite a bit of sun. I suddenly remember the heat of Kabul, the sunburns we used to get there when we took all our gear off.

I wake with a start, dreaming of fires burning in Kandahar, of exploding IEDs, of Bella dressed like a princess with a crown full of jewels and tears in her eyes as she calls my name…_"Edward…Edward…"_

"Edward…"

Moonlight peaks in from the open balcony, casting a bluish glow around the room and giving it an ethereal warmth and radiance despite the cool, sea breeze that also ushers through.

I must still be asleep, because Bella is lying next to me, resting on her side in her white bikini, her arm bent so that her head is up and supported over her hand. She's gazing at me, running her free hand through my hair.

"Edward…what were you dreaming?" she asks, her brows furrowed anxiously.

It feels so real. I can even smell the sweet, natural scent that emanates from her, the one that I've come to associate with her proximity. I turn over on my side so that I can face her.

"I was dreaming of…the war. I was dreaming of you. I was dreaming of pirates and princesses."

She keeps running her hand through my hair; softly, back and forth, not the way she does when I'm awake and she wants me to keep kissing and touching her. This is more…soothing.

"Do you dream of the war often?"

I shake my head, keeping my eyes on her because I don't want to wake up. I don't want her to disappear.

"I mean, sometimes. It's not as bad as it used to be. I couldn't control them before. But now…most of the time, I know it's just a dream, and I can make myself wake up."

"Like you did just now?" she asks quietly.

I don't respond right away. I'm afraid to hope, but yes, I did just wake myself up. And she's here.

I reach out hesitantly, brushing my fingers against her warm skin, and she's there. She's warm and soft and real. Her eyes close at my touch.

"What are you doing here?" I breathe.

She opens her eyes and meets my gaze. For a long while, she simply holds me locked in her dark gaze while my fingers trace the outline of her beautiful face; her eyes, her nose, her mouth…

"For the past few weeks, I've wondered if you would've stayed, Edward, had Rosalie told you where to find me; had you known I was pregnant then."

"Bella, I-"

"In your heart you believe that you would've. I know that, Edward." Her eyes stray beyond me, taking on a wistful, far away look. "But I've kept replaying that moment in my head, the moment you arrived at the pub looking for me, the way I imagine it must've occurred, and I haven't been able to decide how it would've played out had Rosalie told you the truth." She brings her eyes back to me. "It's been driving me mad."

"Bella, I was always going to stay-"

She reaches out and places two fingers over my mouth, cutting me off again. "It's been holding me back, Edward. It's been that last piece…that last doubt…" With a deep breath, she sighs. "But I've realized something in the past couple of days."

"What?" I whisper.

She searches my eyes, and then drops her hand to wrap it around mine. "Come on."

Hand in hand, we make our way out of the house, back through the sand. She guides me over the dock and then onto the boat that's anchored there, waiting for us.

Silently, we stand side by side next to the railing, looking out into the blackness littered with white lights beyond. The scent of salt water and sand wafts heavy in the air, invading our nostrils.

Finally, she turns around and brings her eyes back to mine, placing her hands on my forearms, holding me firmly.

"I've realized that none of it matters."

I lift my brows. "It does matter, Bella."

She smiles softly and covers her mouth, one finger over her nose as if thinking through her words. "What I mean is that yes, it does matter, because what happened then has shaped who we are now, who Ellie is now, so of course it will always matter. Perhaps what I should say is that I've been feeling cheated for the past couple of months, Edward, because I wanted to _hear you_ say you'd stay," she admits in a shaky voice.

"Bella, I _would've_," I insist.

"Not now, Edward. I don't want to hear you say it now. I wanted to see you walk through that hospital door when I was in pre-term labor. I wanted to hear you say that no matter what your father said, no matter what pressures they placed on you, you were choosing Elizabeth and me. I wanted to know that _that_ was the man you were back then, but that's never going to happen."

I close my eyes, my chest aching with defeat. What more can I say? How can I prove to her that I would've stayed?

"Edward, let me finish," she says gently. When I open my eyes once more, she's gazing at me with eyes full of emotion, and squeezes my arms tight.

"What I'm trying to tell you is that I've figured out that it doesn't matter. _This_ is what matters, Edward. The man you are _now_. I'll never know who exactly you were then, but whoever it was, whatever decisions you made then, whatever path you took, has shaped you into who you are now, and you're…" she swallows thickly, and a tear rolls down her cheek.

"You're everything I need _now_, Edward. Everything that Ellie and I both need, and _that's_ what matters."

"Bella…"

She draws in a deep breath and smiles, trailing her arms higher, wrapping them around my neck.

"I love you, Edward, I trust you, and you're everything I need _now_."

I pull her against me, our mouths crashing together as I swallow up her tears.

"I love you, Bella. God, I love you."

She laughs and then she cries some more, but she's laughing while she's crying so it's okay.

I pick her up and cradle her in my arms, exhilarated, so happy I don't even fucking know what to do with her or with myself at the moment, so I simply hold her there, putting my mouth on every surface of her I can reach.

After a while, she giggles. "So…what now?"

I grin at her. "Give me a minute here. I'm trying to catch up."

"Now you're the one trying to catch up? Oh Lord, what a pair we make; we're never going to get anywhere at this rate."

She's teasing me, yet I can do nothing but stand there, my chest heaving while I hold her and gaze at her, at how…happy and sure she looks.

"What if Elizabeth wakes up again?"

She grins. "I've enlisted my sister and your aunt for help tonight. They're on Ellie duty."

My bewildered expression makes her laugh.

"So are we just going to stand here and stare at the stars all night then?" She looks up at the sky. "Alright, I suppose they do look quite lovely tonight. Another lesson on constellations might not be-"

She squeals when I turn and run us below deck.

"You want to see stars?" I ask, throwing her over the bed. She gazes up at me, her beautiful chest moving up and down, "I'll make you see some serious stars tonight."

Her resounding laughter is hearty, and screams of delight erupt from her when I throw myself over her. I wrap my hands around her face while I plunge my tongue into her mouth, making her moan. Her hands roam across my shoulders, up and down my back, nails digging into my skin, under my shirt and scoring across my ribs. I wonder if she remembers how much I loved it when she did that the first time we were together.

"_Edward_…"

"_Bella_…I need you, Bella. I've needed you for so long."

I want to explain to her what I really mean by that. I mean, yes, I need her right now. Yes, I've wanted and needed her this way since we found each other again.

But I've needed her long before that. I've needed her every day of my life, in every way, next to me, loving me, standing with me, laughing with me, crying with me. Everything since the moment I met her. She may have stopped loving me at one point, but I never did and I missed her every damned day in between.

I want to explain all this to her, but I can't seem to manage the words while she licks and nips across my collarbone. So instead, I snake one hand behind her to untie her bikini top and figure I'll leave the explanations for later. The strings fall like silk ribbons across her shoulders and I bunch the material in my hand, revealing creamy white breasts that contrast with the golden glow of her shoulders.

Her chest heaves while I gaze at them, but there's no shyness in her demeanor.

"Beautiful," I murmur while bright pink, erect nipples stand up straight, point at me. I mold one breast in each hand, remembering what they felt like then. Yes, they do feel bigger. She gave birth to our child, nursed her, and knowing that makes me love her all the more, makes me love her body even more.

Bella whimpers and lifts her hips to grind them against me. She's different at this then she was the first time. That first time, I had to guide her, teach her.

This time, she shows me exactly what she needs, what she wants.

She takes my head and guides it to her breasts where I eagerly suck on one, swirling my tongue around her sweet, hardened nipple while she heaves and moans unashamedly.

"Yes, Edward. Yes, like that."

Her guidance turns me on all the more. I turn my attention to her other breast, treating it with the same affection. All the while her hips grind against mine. My cock throbs almost painfully, already imagining the heat inside her, pulsing with need.

She takes my hand and guides it down, and I know exactly what she wants. No, we're not taking it slowly anymore, but that's okay. We have all the time in the world now.

I suck her nipples deep into my mouth, elongating first one then the other, and reach down to untie the strings holding her bikini bottom together. When she's lying completely naked before me, I sit up over my legs and really take a look at her. She's not shy anymore, not the way she was then. She watches me watch her and grins and fuck if it doesn't drive me wild. When she lifts herself quickly over her own legs, gripping the hem of my shirt anxiously and pulling it over my head, I know this isn't going to go slow or sweet.

And that's okay.

We've got forever.

Her mouth runs over my chest and I groan lowly when she sucks on my own nipples. My hands grip her hair, but she takes one and guides it down again.

A languid grin forms on my lips. Yeah, she knows exactly what she wants.

I grip her hip with my hand, caressing her smooth, round ass, the one that's been tempting me all week. Trailing slowly forward while her kisses on my chest grow more frantic, needier, I run the tips of my fingers between her thighs. She whimpers when my hand trails higher. I can feel her heat radiating and I've got to force myself to focus before I blow my load right there just thinking about the heat…the heat I'm about to feel around my cock.

But I want to give her as much pleasure as possible before we get to that.

My fingers ghost purposely against the light fuzz between her legs, teasing while she breathes erratically, while I grow more and more engorged.

"Please, Edward. _Please_."

I rub and tease her wet clit with two fingers before sinking them in deep and she cries out. Yeah, I remember those cries.

She puts her own hand over mine and pushes my fingers in even deeper, so that my palm cradles her, and when she starts moving around them, I watch her through heavy eyes, the pressure in my cock almost painful. She rolls her hips around them while I pump in and out, reveling in her moisture, in her heat. Her back arches as she pushes against my hand, her body trembling and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I could probably stay that way forever, but when she reaches out and pulls my boxers down to my thighs, grabbing my aching member in her hand, I'm the one who sees stars.

And while we kneel there on our legs, stroking and watching each other, yeah…yeah, it's amazing.

Her cries are as perfect as I remember them, ragged and pleading.

Her hand jerks up and down over me, pumping me while I call out her name in rough, broken murmurs.

So when she lets go suddenly, my heart lurches. But she grabs my neck and pulls me down to the bed with her, her expression intense.

"We can play later, Edward. Right now, I need you deep inside me."

"Oh yeah," I groan, because hey, I'm not about to complain here. There's been a whole world out there conspiring to keep me from being inside her this week, and it may still be out there.

Our daughter might wake and want no one but her mother,

A tsunami may rise over the Long Island Sound,

A planet might explode, sending meteors hurtling straight towards us,

Every force of nature may be in collusion for all I know, but at this point it'll take a fucking ten point zero on the Richter scale, shaking me all around and making me completely lose my balance and miss my target, to keep me from making love to this woman right here and now.

I quickly throw off my boxers and part her legs with my own before any unforeseen disaster can hit, and the next thing I know, I'm consumed in heat and the most delicious tightness, squeezing me from every angle – and so fucking slick and wet.

"Fuck," I growl lowly, while Bella's cries fill the small bedroom in the yacht. For one long moment, we simply hold each other's gazes, communicating so much through our eyes. Finally, _finally_, we're home, and deep inside I know we both understand exactly what this moment means.

But I'm inside her, so the deep reflection will have to wait.

She wraps her legs around me and pulls me in closer while I thrust as deep as I can go.

"Unghh, Edward! Yes, Edward! Yes!"

Her encouragement spurs me on. Our hips meet and retreat frenziedly while the sounds of our lovemaking carry in the air, cries and moans and hips smacking together.

"Bella…fuck, baby. Yeah. Yeah, yeah."

Our mouths crash together again, no longer soft, sweet kisses but urgent, passionate demands, tongues fighting for dominance. It's everything I remember, yet nothing like before.

She scratches her nails down my back deliciously and I cry out her name while our bodies move against each other in perfect tandem. She takes hungrily and I give anxiously, over and over.

I can tell when she's about to come. She's changed in lots of ways, but this stays the same. She loses her focus, can't kiss me properly anymore except for erratic movements of her tongue as it touches its tip to mine. And then she can't even do that. Her lips pucker and then her mouth falls open. Yeah, I remember this. I hover over her, swallowing up her ragged breaths while her back arches all the more.

"Yeah, baby. That's right," I urge her, thrusting hard, making her whimper, her face contorted in so much pleasure she looks like she might cry. But I know that look. Her head rolls from side to side but I don't let up. I want to devour her from the inside out, consume her. I pump in and out, almost wild with need. My mouth stays on her while her desperate pleas ring out higher and higher, in perfect rhythm with my hips.

"Please, Edward...Yes, I'm coming, Edward. I'm coming."

She's falling over the edge and I'm watching it, feeling it. Her walls contract, squeezing me tight.

"Oh God, I know. Let me see it, Bella. I've always loved seeing you come."

It might be my words, or the couple of more hard thrusts I give her, but she squeezes around me so tightly that I think I might explode before she's done. My cock grows and throbs inside her.

"Fuck, Bella. Fuck…"

"Edward! Yes, Edward. Yes!"

She wraps her entire body around me, heels digging into my ass, drowning me in heat and wetness and I can't hold back any longer.

We cry out together, and even as I come, some part deep inside me manages to acknowledge that though yes, I've had sex since I first met Bella, yes, I've come since I met Bella...but I haven't felt _this._

This all-consuming heat and love and fucking fire. Not in years; not since the last time I made love to a nineteen year old girl I knew only as _Bella_.

OOOOOOOOOO

**BPOV**

My eyes open to the sun rising over grey waters, sparkling with dozens of silver lines of jewels, up and down as far as the eye can see. For a second, I'm a bit disoriented, frowning as the bright, orange circle sways from side to side, tilting left to right as it makes its ascent into the sky.

When recollection hits me, my eyes widen, but I fight to keep my body from shaking, to keep my breathing even because I'm not quite certain that I want Edward to know that I've woken. The clock on the nightstand indicates that it's six fourteen a.m. I lie there for about ten minutes, watching each digit move up slowly, forcing my heart rate to remain steady, my shoulders to rise and fall in measured rhythm. He's sleeping, holding me spooned into him while his lips graze my hair, soft breaths tickling the nape of my neck. His hands clutch my waist tightly, even in his slumber. I can feel his morning hard-on pressed up against my bum, rocking rhythmically against me every few seconds.

I have to get up.

Carefully, I unlace our fingers and then attempt to inch my way to the edge of the bed, little by little, so as not to disturb the mattress-

"Bella, where are you going?" His voice is rough, raspy; still full of sleep.

"I…"

He reaches out and pulls me back, pushing me down over the mattress and hovering over me. He holds my arms trapped over my head while the creases in the corners of his eyes wrinkle with anxiousness. So much is the same…yet so much is different. Once, I could only read his eyes.

He's an open book for me now; every expression, every look.

Last night was…everything I remembered, yet nothing I expected.

"Where are you going?" he asks again, his expression full of concern, thinking I regret any of what happened last night.

I smile softly. "I just wanted to check my phone, Love, to make sure Alice or your Aunt didn't have any problems with Ellie last night."

He grins, relief coloring his features, and releases my arms. I twist my body out from under him and reach for my phone.

**6:15 a.m.: Bella, I just wanted to let you know that Ellie slept peacefully all night in her own bed. I just checked on her and she's still fast asleep. Enjoy your morning with my nephew.**

I drop the phone back over the nightstand, and turn back around to the man I've loved for seven years, even when I told myself that I didn't.

He hovers over me again. "How's Elizabeth?"

"Still sleeping – in her own bed."

He grins widely, dropping his delicious weight over me, pressing his hard-on right against where I'm already aching for him.

I'm not that nineteen-year old girl anymore. He's no longer the twenty-four year old soldier on leave.

We are who we are now; two people who need to live with the mistakes of our past – and look forward towards our future.

And who I am right now is a woman who wants that morning hard-on buried deep inside me.

I reach down and stroke it, the way I know he enjoys, base to end, playing with the moisture at the tip and spreading it around the wide head. The way he groans, the way his face contorts with pleasure makes my thighs clench with anticipation.

"Now, my love," I breathe, lifting my head to suck on his earlobe, "where were we?"

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**A/N: Uhm…thoughts? :)**

**Chapter Song Recs:**

**Oldie, but goodie: **_**Again**_**, by Janet Jackson, which is where the chappy title comes from. I think it fits perfectly.**

**And a little naughtier: **_**Blurred Lines**_** by Robin Thicke - I just had it in my head for that last half ;)**

**To all of you who accused me of being a mega-ultra-cock-blocking bitch, I accept your apology, and I love you back. :)**

**And come on, guys, after the way these two started out in this story, they couldn't have quite ended up like this any sooner – at least I don't think they could've.**

**Anyway, don't know if you all realized that Bella's POV began more or less the way her POV in Ch. 6 began, but with a few changes to reflect the fact that they're no longer who they were then. Hope that sort of makes sense. :)**

**Probably won't be able to update until late next week again, but we'll see what happens. Besides, I think I've left you all off in a pretty happy place. ;)**

**And thanks again for voting guys, for reviewing even when I can't get back to you, and just for being you!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page. Come check it out. :)**


	35. Chapter 35 - Company

**A/N: I hope all my fellow Americans enjoyed a wonderful Fourth of July! (And for those of you not from the U.S., I hope you enjoyed a beautiful Thursday anyway.**

**Still appreciating your continued prayers for Hailey. **

**Beta'd by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 35 - Company**

**BPOV**

For the past few hours, Edward and I have existed in a quixotic, surreal state. Throughout the night, we've drifted in and out of the periphery of true sleep, into a superficial slumber punctuated by moments of lovemaking which are anything but restful. We explore each other's bodies with eager touches and reverent caresses; my mouth familiarizes itself with each one of his ribs once more, enjoying the deep hum from the base of his throat; it reverberates right into my heart as we lie chest to chest. With equal fervor, his lips retrace every part of my body that he once worshipped. Yes, he worshipped me once. With everything else that occurred afterwards, I'd forgotten or simply suppressed those memories; only remembered the last half hour of a relationship that had been too short to begin with.

Now, he elicits reactions from me that I've repressed for too long.

Michael was a good lover, generous and thorough. He had no problem bringing me to orgasm, yet there was always something...missing, perhaps lacking. Neither with Michael nor with Jake did I ever feel the sense of being stimulated to the most intense heights, of a maddening ache coupled with an absolutely frenzied need for release, where I thought I would positively lose my mind from our physical connection.

I now know what was missing, and there's nothing either of them could've ever done to propel me to the perfect ecstasy that Edward has taken me to. It was always him, and it would've always had to be him for me to find that kind of fulfillment.

Yet for every familiar dip and groove with which we intimately reacquaint ourselves, there's so much that's new, so much more to learn about one another.

For example, he hisses in pleasure when I fist his now longer hair, when I use it to urge him on, to bring him closer and guide him to the exact places where I need his mouth and tongue.

And he makes my eyes roll to the back of my head when he unapologetically flips me over and lifts me up onto my hands and knees, when he swings my legs over his wide shoulders and drives into me so hard and deep that I can barely breathe as I hold his darkened gaze, as I drag my nails up and along his strong back.

No, we're not who we once were. We're no longer shy or unsure with one another. It's been seven years and we've both grown, matured…experienced others…yet we're here now – back in each other's arms.

OOOOOOOOOO

I've fallen into another shallow nap where shadowy dreams tease the outskirts of my mind, tangling and interweaving with the birds whistling, and with the seagulls crooning somewhere overhead. The noises mingle with soft waves tumbling against the hull of the boat, swaying it gingerly from port to starboard, with the warmth engulfing me from behind, the deep inhalations and exhalations tickling the nape of my neck.

As peaceful as they are, the sounds of the world outside of this softly weaving boat remind me that we can't stay in here forever, that there are duties and responsibilities and a soon-to-awaken six-year-old waiting beyond the magic we've recreated in the past few hours.

It's okay, though. Seven years of mistakes, betrayals and anger weren't enough to diffuse our love. It's survived lies, failed marriages and grudges. Despite time and space, it refuses to be forgotten.

It will survive until tonight.

So once again, I make a half-hearted attempt to untangle myself from Edward.

And once again, he refuses to let go.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmurs drowsily, rocking his hips against me, rubbing his semi-hard-on over my naked skin. My back arches instinctively to his movements and the semi quickly morphs and grows. One second it's down just under my bum, two seconds later it springs up firmly against my cheeks, seeking entrance.

"Edward…" I chuckle lowly, angling my face sideways towards him. My voice is rough from hours of exertion paired with a lovely lack of sleep, yet my body reacts automatically to him, my thighs grow hot and moist and clench in anticipation. "Edward, our daughter will be looking for us soon," I groan unconvincingly.

His stubbly jaw skims all along the side of my face, up and down while he reaches down and lifts my leg over his thigh, opening me up for him.

"Just one more time." His warm breath fans over my neck, and I close my eyes, whimpering with excitement while I wait for him to fill me. "Just one more time to hold us over _ahhh_…_yeah_…"

He stretches me as he takes me from behind, sliding in slow and deep and then just holding it there for a few seconds, making me tremble with need.

"Please, Edward…" I plead, arching my back and pushing further into him, seeking friction.

"Oh, Bella. Fuck, you feel incredible." Gradually and deliberately he slides himself out, almost all the way before sliding all the way back in just as leisurely, making me feel every last swollen inch of him.

"Edward…" I cry weakly, "yes, Edward…like that…just like _that_…"

He continues his maddeningly languid rhythm, slow and erotic, while I pulse all around his hardness. Our mouths can't quite reach each other, so he bites my shoulder while he uses one hand to pick up my hair so that he can trail long, smooth wet kisses along my back and the nape of my neck. His other hand molds around my breasts, traces the curve of my body from thigh to ribs. I grip the sheet with one hand and bring the other up to wrap around his neck, clinging to him while I moan and groan from the sensations of the build-up he's making me feel everywhere.

"Yes, yes, Edward," I whisper into the air. Nothing exists beyond us. I'm floating in a sea of pleasure, in a trance so deep with no beginning and no end anywhere near. His hand slides down between my legs, and he finds my clit, teasing it while he slides out almost all the way – but this time, he thrusts back in hard.

"Ungh!"

His finger circles all around my wet and swollen nub, and he repeats his actions: out quick and in hard, over and over and over.

"God, _yes…" _

He pumps into me and nothing exists but the primal instinct to push against him faster and faster, the almost unbearable heat licking up my thighs, spreading out all the way up to my scalp as my orgasm takes over, and I squeeze him tight. He feels it too, based on his low groan.

"Yeah, Bella, yeah, baby," he spurs me, "squeeze me tight, just like that."

I clench tighter at his words, and he grips my hips and buries himself deep inside. With jerky spasms and a deep groan, he empties himself inside me while thrusting slowly again, slower until he stops altogether and we lie side by side, spooned into one another, whispering our love for each other.

While we catch our breaths, I watch the clock on the small stand by the bed.

"It's almost nine a.m. We really do have to get up now, Edward."

He groans. "Are you sure I can't convince you to stay in here with me forever?"

I smile and turn myself over in his arms. His green eyes reflect the sun pouring in through the high windows, satiated and as happy as I feel right now.

My hand cups his cheek, rough and dark with morning stubble, and his lids grow heavy while he hums quietly. I do so enjoy stroking the shadows over his jaw line – though not as much as I love the way it feels between my legs. I look up at the ceiling and groan. If I keep thinking this way, we won't ever make it out of this yacht.

"You probably can," I confess, "but you won't because you know that our daughter will be looking for us soon, and she'll probably think to look in here."

A look of horror crosses his features. He closes his eyes and shudders.

"Oh Jesus, I just had the most horrible image of Elizabeth coming in here and finding us naked and…"

He can't even finish his sentence, and I can't help laughing at the look on his face.

"Well, if you don't want that image to come true, we have to get dressed."

He shudders again and opens his eyes, taking my hand and placing it over his mouth, kissing my palm. It tingles all the way up to my heart.

"It's our last night here, for a while at least. Promise me that we can do this again tonight, that we'll come back to the boat after Elizabeth is in bed and make love all night long." A cheeky grin lights up his beautiful face.

I may not be that nineteen year-old girl anymore, but I'm as much his now as I was back then. Yes, I'm in deep, even deeper than I was the first time if I'm being honest. Because back then, no matter how much I may have fallen in love with Sergeant Edward Cullen, I didn't really _know_ him, not the way I know him now. I know his hopes and fears. I know his family. I know his truths, and I know his lies.

And I love and accept the entire package.

"I promise."

OOOOOOOOOO

We gather around the large deck in the back of the house for a late breakfast. It seems a few of us had reason to wake late this morning. Edward and I spent the entire night making love, Esme did us the huge favor of keeping an eye on Ellie - which had her getting up a couple of times throughout the night to check on her - and Alice-

Well, I'm not really sure why Alice looks so exhausted this morning. From what I gather, Esme basically took over "Ellie Duty" last night.

She glances up at me and smiles, biting her lip. It's something we Swan women do when we're nervous.

"Are you alright, then?" I lean in and ask her.

She grins brightly; her blue eyes shining in a way that reminds me of Mum. "I'm brilliant, Bella."

"You look absolutely knackered."

"No more knackered than you appear," she grins.

I smirk at her and bump her shoulder with mine. She laughs.

Alice and I have helped Esme prepare a bountiful breakfast; well, Alice helped. I passed around the ingredients and did the clean up. Jasper and Emmett joined us just as Edward, Ellie and I finished bringing everything out to the rectangular wrought iron table.

Throughout our meal, Edward showers me with affection. He glances my way often, winking smugly, picks up my hand and places small, soft kisses on the back of it, moves in and kisses my temple and then kisses our daughter's temple. She looks between us and giggles.

Emmett looks between us and snickers.

Ellie is feeling smug herself after having spent the entire night in her bed.

"One day at a time, Ellie," Esme encourages her. "See? You did it last night, and you'll be able to do it again tonight."

Ellie grins crookedly, the same way her father does when they're feeling good about themselves. She wraps her arms around Oyster, who licks her face in pure adoration.

"It's a good job that Mummy and Daddy gave me Oyster," she proclaims. "He keeps my feet warm and helps me sleep through the whole night!"

"So, is _that_ all you needed, Honey?" Edward questions. "Something to keep your feet warm? I could've just invested in a few pairs of wool socks."

She pinches her eyes shut, thinking about it. "No, Daddy," she disagrees with a decisive shake of her head. "I don't think the socks would have done the job. It's definitely Oyster. You made the right choice," she nods seriously, kissing her puppy.

Edward roars with laughter and picks Ellie off her chair, settling her and Oyster on his lap. His eyes move to me.

"I know exactly what you mean."

It's a good morning, yet at the same time, we're all feeling a bit melancholic because the summer unofficially ends tomorrow – as does our beautiful holiday. After a while, Ellie climbs off her father's lap and runs about the deck, chasing Oyster around. The guys eventually end up by the deck railing, talking and chuckling.

I glance over at my sister again. She seems to be staring off into space, lost in thought with a faint smile on her face. I reach over and wrap my hand around hers, feeling a bit guilty because I've been so wrapped up in Edward and Ellie and I that I may have neglected her this week.

"Looking forward to American University in a couple of days, then?"

"I'm looking forward to _so_ much, Bella."

I give her a quizzical look. Yes, Alice has been thrilled about being here in the U.S. since day one, but it seems as if there's something more…

She takes a deep breath and sighs, her eyes roaming round the deck, resting on Esme, Emmett, Jasper, Ellie, Edward.

"I'm brilliant," she repeats.

"Okay," I smile in bemusement. "I'm glad. I want you to have a great year."

She looks at me intently. "Do you still believe that you'll be going back in a year, Bella?"

Now it's my turn to bite my lip.

Her blue eyes sparkle knowingly. "Don't worry, Bella. Mum already knew. We talked about it before we left."

Somehow, I'm not surprised. Mum always knows. I can't help missing her immensely at that moment. I can almost see her laughing at me, hear her saying, "Oh Bella, Darling, that right there is a one-way ticket your daughter and you have."

I smile wistfully. "Edward and I haven't discussed it yet…"

She snickers. "Oh, I'm sure Edward already has it all planned out."

I snort because she's probably right.

Out of the blue, Alice's grin turns into a frown. "Bella…there's something I have to tell you, but please try not to get too cheesed off or get your knickers in too much of a twist."

"It depends on what it is, Alice. Go on, then." I cross my arms in front of me.

"Don't forget that you were my same age when…" she trails off, her eyes roaming round the deck once more, narrowing curiously at one point. I turn round to see what she's looking at.

Emmett is standing by the balcony railing, holding two fingers against his ear and hissing furiously, I assume into his earpiece. Edward stands stiffly next to him, his eyes narrowed into slits, nostrils flaring, Jasper at his side.

Emmett looks up and says something low to him, and Edward's expression contorts in anger.

"No," he growls lowly. "Absolutely not."

Jasper glances our way before putting a hand on his shoulder. He murmurs something too low for me to hear.

"No!" Edward repeats, shaking Jasper's hand off.

Emmett speaks into his earpiece again and then once more looks up at Edward. "Look, Man, you might be better off just…" I can't quite hear the rest.

Edward closes his eyes, his jaw clenching almost audibly. When he opens them back up, he's looking straight at me. He turns to Jasper, and I manage to catch the last few words: "….in my office." With a deep breath, he walks our way.

"Bella, Love," he kneels in front of me, picking up my hand and kissing it the way he did before, only now it feels more perfunctory, as if his head is a million miles away, "why don't you and your sister take Elizabeth down to the beach? I'll join you in a few."

"What's going on, Edward?"

He holds my gaze. "Emmett, go with them," he instructs, his eyes firmly on me. "Bella, I'll be there soon."

"Edward-"

But he stands and begins to walk off without another word while Jasper waits for him. I reach out and grab the hem of his shirt, making him turn back around. My heart and mind are racing.

"Edward, what the bloody hell is going on?"

He sighs. "Bella, please, just go down to the beach. I'll come find you-"

"Is Ellie in any physical danger?"

"No," he reassures me.

I draw in a breath of relief, releasing my grip on his shirt. "Then will you please tell me what's going on?"

He purses his lips, and for a couple of seconds, his face goes blank, giving nothing away.

I raise a brow. "Edward…" I say in a warning tone, because we've spoken about this, about his blank mask.

He exhales in exasperation. "It's Tanya. She's at the gate and is demanding to be allowed in."

"I thought the agreement was that the house was completely yours over the summers."

"It is, but it's the last day of summer," he sneers, reaching out and taking my hand in his. "It's alright, Bella. She and I have items to discuss, as I've told you," he reminds me. "She hasn't contacted me, so I was hoping she'd wait until I was back in D.C., but this seems more like her."

For a few seconds, I can't respond. Despite everything that's happened, despite the part she played in separating Edward and me, despite everything that Edward has told me since our reunion, about the things she said on the phone that day, about the type of marriage that they had, about the fact that she hasn't responded to him about his offer to buy back her share of his house, the fact will always be that she was once his _wife_, she held a title and rights to him that I've never had - and is the only woman from his past who intimidates me. And I know it's something that I need to get past if Edward and I are going to have a future here in America.

"I'm coming with you."

He shakes his head. "Bella, that's not necessary. Just stay with Ellie and-"

"Edward, if you and I are going to work, we have to be partners. I'm not going to merely be the woman that takes care of your child during the day and warms your bed at night."

"I never said that's what I wanted."

I grip his hand tighter. "Then let me come with you." Before he can protest again, I continue. "Edward, that woman played her own part in separating us back then. The things she and her father did affected not only you, but Elizabeth and me too. They changed all three of our lives! I need her to see that you and I are together now, in every way. I _need_ this, Edward. Can you understand that?" I ask pleadingly.

"Bella-"

"If it had been the other way around, if Michael had said and done things to keep you and I apart, wouldn't you want to present a united front before him? I need us to be a _team_, Edward."

I see first pain, then guilt in his eyes, but I don't want that; I simply want his understanding.

And when his hand reaches up and strokes my cheek, I know I have it. With a deep sigh, he nods.

"Bella, you and I will _always_ be a team, in everything."

He turns to Emmett, waiting off a couple of feet away.

"Emmett, please keep an eye on Elizabeth. Bella and I will be back soon."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Oh well, paradise couldn't last forever, could it?**

**Love hearing from you guys. I apologize if I haven't gotten back to your reviews, but summers are crazy at the PattyRosa household. And I also a****pologize again for the erratic updates. My Zombie Prophet and his sisters are sure keeping me busy! (By the way, WWZ rocked!)**

**BTW, according to Zombie Prophet, we have about a month before the Zombie Apocalypse, so get yourselves ready. (Don't worry, this story should be done by then.) :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	36. Chapter 36 The Olive Branch

**A/N: Thanks for the continued prayers for Hailey. They're helping!**

**The Cullen Legacy is being featured as Fic of the Week over at the Lemonade Stand, with a cool write-up to go along with it! Go check it out at triple w dot tehlemonadestand dot com. And once again, thanks to all who voted. :)**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**We're down to the home stretch!**

**Ch. 36 – The Olive Branch**

* * *

**BPOV**

Edward holds my hand tightly in his, our fingers laced together as we walk towards his office. My heart pounds loudly in my chest and my stomach is tied in knots and I hate it. I hate that Tanya Martin-_Cullen_ has this effect on me, and I have yet to see her. I hate that she kept his name after their divorce, and that there's absolutely nothing I can say or do about it. I hate that the rational part of me wants to make sure I'm a calm, sensible woman in front of her, while the irrational part of me simply wants to shove the fact that Edward and I are together in her face – to show her that despite all attempts to the contrary, Edward and I found each other again. I hate that the rational part of me will in all probability win.

A few feet from his office, Edward stops us and turns me to face him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine," I lie, but the shaky quality of my voice betrays me.

He searches my eyes and then cradles my face, slowly dipping his head and feathering his mouth over mine; soft, tender brushes that manage to quell the unease in my stomach because they remind me that though she may be the one with his name, I'm the one with his heart.

"I love you, Bella," he whispers against my lips, then ghosts them oh so lightly all over my face, his nose skimming my forehead and cheeks. It's as if he senses the reassurance I need at this moment. "Don't forget that, okay?"

"Mmm," I hum, feeling my heart rate slow, calm down once more. His touch warms my entire body, gives me the relaxation as well as the boost of confidence I need. I draw in a deep breath and sigh much more happily. "No, I won't forget," I smile.

"Good," he grins back.

Edward's office is large but comfortable, just like the rest of the entire property. It's in one of the corners of the house, facing the pool area, and two of the four walls are covered in floor-to-ceiling windows so that you can clearly see everything going on in that area. Though the room is painted a dark cream color, the bright, flowery landscape around the pool lends bright color and cheer to the room. The blue pool water sparkles through the windows. Edward's Princeton University Diploma graces one wall, in a beautiful cherry wood frame. The furniture in the room is the same color wood, and the floors are a light toned wood that contrasts nicely with the darker furniture. His desk is long and massive with papers all over it; it's obviously well-used, but not messy. I can picture him taking care of business here and swiveling in his leather chair to gaze out at the pool and landscape, giving himself a much-needed breather every once in a while.

Yet when we enter, Edward leads me to the black leather chair behind his desk, to his chair.

"Take a seat," he offers with a smile. I grin wryly as I do, and he moves to the large windows and presses a button between two of them.

Dark, cherry wood blinds slowly descend, inch by inch erasing the pleasant glow of the sun, hiding the bright landscape and eradicating the refreshingly blue, pool water. When I blink and look around the room once more, it's totally transformed from warm and inviting to cool and business-like.

When I look up at Edward, his expression has done the same, and even though he's wearing a white polo and blue board shorts, he might as well be in one of his crisp, dark suits.

I don't have time to question any of it though, because I can hear heels clicking against the floors outside the office, and then Tanya comes into view. Jasper walks in behind her, takes a quick look at Edward and me, and with a nod walks right back out, closing the door behind him.

At first, she stands there in a pretty, black and white floral-printed one-shoulder dress and doesn't even seem to notice me while I sit there looking at her and kind of wishing I was wearing something other than a white, terry cloth beach cover-up dress. But her own eyes immediately move behind me where Edward is standing, and a slow, sultry smile lights up her face.

"Edward." Her smile grows, and she takes a couple of languid, measured steps closer. "Is all that security really necessary? Honestly, it's ridiculous that _I_ should have to go through all that to get into my own-"

"This is _not_ your house, Tanya, especially not at this time of year," Edward says coolly.

My heart rate begins to speed up, but then I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

She looks as if she's about to argue, but then her eyes fall to where I'm seated behind Edward's desk. Her steps falter, and her head jerks back.

"Oh," she exclaims quietly, and for one split second, her expression seems to harden, but then she smiles again. I can't help noting how naturally beautiful she is when she smiles. She's got a natural, photogenic smile; the kind a camera loves. When she smiles, her blue eyes seem to twinkle with amusement, with the self-assurance of someone who knows her high rank in the world. Her hair is natural too. In this day and age of faux blondes, she's got a head full of long, straight, reddish-blonde hair that cannot be achieved from a bottle. I find myself wondering what a child between she and Edward would've looked like. A ginger for sure, though would it have had darker hair like my Elizabeth and the Elizabeth before her, or blonder hair like his or her mother?

"You must be…Isabella." She says, breaking me out of my thoughts and then begins walking again, her steps even and confident as she puts a hand out over the desk to me. "It's so good to finally meet you."

I stare at her hand and quickly see myself not taking it, just letting it hang there in the air.

But of course, that's not what I do. I hold her gaze and extend my hand. "It's good to meet you too."

Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, and I think I see a vague twitch of her mouth.

"I had no idea you'd be here," she exclaims.

Edward snorts his disbelief. "Tanya, it's not exactly something we were trying to keep secret. It's been all over the papers."

"I just meant I didn't know she'd be here, in your office right now." The entire time, she keeps her eyes on me.

"I hope this is okay," I ask with a raised brow.

She smiles again, that amused glint still in her eyes. "Oh, if it's okay with Edward, it's fine by me."

"Bella and I have no secrets," Edward says matter-of-factly.

Something flashes in her eyes, something she seems to try to hide with the amusement, but it disappears quickly, yet in that moment, somehow I know. It's not something I can quite put a finger on, rather it's something in the airy way she carries herself, in her overconfidence. I'm not sure how I know, but I do.

She knew about Ellie. She knew all along.

The question is what were her true feelings for Edward?

Oh, I know what Edward's views and beliefs on the subject are: For Tanya, it was never anything more than a quest for power and the ultimate goal of the White House.

But it's difficult for me to fathom that anyone, regardless of her rank in the world, regardless of how blue her blood apparently runs, could've been married to Edward and not wanted him for more than just the glory he could someday bring her. And now that I'm sure she knew of Ellie, I can't help wondering if she kept Edward away from us because she wanted him as father of her own child, or is Edward right?

Was it always simply a quest for the White House?

And does it really make a difference? She knew about Elizabeth and didn't tell him. What difference does it make what her reasons were?

An image of Rose flashes before my eyes, quick imprints of our entire friendship, our highs…and our lows; the ways we always protected each other.

It makes a difference. It does.

Tanya lowers herself over one of the two chairs directly across the large desk, crossing her right leg over her left leg elegantly while Edward remains standing behind me. His hands are on the back of the chair on which I'm seated, and his thumbs softly circle around my shoulder blades.

Tanya's eyes move from Edward back to me. "As I said, Isabella, I wasn't expecting for you to be here in Edward's office, but I'm actually glad you are."

"Oh?" I question.

"Yes. I wanted to congratulate you on how well-received the ERA article was. I've read it myself a couple of times, and I must admit that you're a great writer. It was a very insightful article, and the high praise is well-deserved." Her eyes are amused again, even more so than before and yes, I get the joke. She knows this world a bloody hell of a lot better than I probably ever will regardless of how much research I perform.

Nevertheless, I offer her a pleasant smile. "Thank you."

Edward thumbs stop circling for a couple of seconds, and he simply squeezes my shoulders. Yes, he sees it too.

"Alright, Tanya, you've given Bella your stamp of approval on her article. I'm sure she'll sleep tonight," he says with an eye roll. "May we ask for what purpose you're really here?"

She chuckles, but I can hear the irritation just below the surface. She drops her right leg before re-crossing them, left over right this time.

"Always so impatient, Edward." But her eyes stay on me as she says this. "He's a very impatient man, Isabella. I'm not sure if you know this about him." She leans in closer to the desk.

"I tried to teach him to be calm, to be more flexible, but everything always had to be his way," she whispers conspiratorially. "He's always had his own set of beliefs and has been so stubborn about them." She chuckles once more and leans back against her chair. "I hope you have better luck than I did at teaching him."

I can feel the irritation rolling off of Edward. His hands stop moving, and he draws in a lungful of air, but before he can say anything, I reach up and wrap my right hand around the hand he has on my left shoulder, keeping my eyes on Tanya.

"Edward is neither my student nor my child who I should attempt to mold in any way. His set of beliefs is exactly that, _his_ set of beliefs, and I would never try to change him. As for his patience," I offer her a smile, "he's always been quite patient with me."

"Has he? Well, now I think I understand where he and I went wrong a bit better. You see, I tried my best to make our marriage work, but his heart was never one hundred percent in it. Oh the sex was great, don't get me wrong," she snorts, "but his mind was always far away. And now I know where it was all along."

For a second, I simply stare at her.

She laughs.

"Cut the shit, Tanya. Why the hell are you here?"

I look up at Edward, a bit bewildered honestly, but his face is the unreadable mask I haven't seen in weeks. Panic starts to take hold in my chest, like a heavy weight right over my heart, but suddenly I understand everything so clearly. I finally see why it's been so hard for Edward to completely let go of his mask.

He'll always need it. As long as he has to deal with the Carlisles and Aros and Tanyas of the world, Edward needs his mask to protect himself – to protect us.

And I won't begrudge it to him at this moment. While Tanya's attention moves to Edward, I stare down at the desk and try to compose myself once more.

She sighs. "Edward, seriously, I've come to extend an olive branch, with a peace offering to get things back on track between us." She looks back at me, smiling so honestly, but I'm getting a better feel for her now. My features are calm and composed, and now that I'm starting to understand her better, I _feel_ more calm and composed as well.

"Look, I really do wish you both the best. My father and I…we're both upset about the hard feelings that seem to have developed between both our families. We simply want to establish a good relationship once more," she shrugs. "Daddy is extremely displeased with what your father has apparently done, with the way he kept the knowledge of your child from you, and the fact that he allegedly used government funds to hire that P.I. and kept him on his payroll for years and years! We're here for you, Edward, for both you and Bella," she says emphatically, "and Daddy will make sure that your father is prosecuted to the full extent of the law for what he's done."

I glance up at Edward again, but he stands there expressionless, his features betraying nothing. I would have no clue to what he's thinking if it wasn't for the way he's gripping my shoulder, how tightly he's holding on to my hand.

Tanya pauses in her speech long enough to let her eyes wander around the spacious office.

She sighs almost wistfully. "I've always loved this house, it's rich, political past, but of course I understand that you'd want to pass it down to your family, that it's a huge part of your family's legacy."

"If you really understand all that," Edward says, "then we should have no problem here this morning."

"Edward has made you a very generous proposition," I add. "It's an extremely equitable amount to buy back what is rightfully his."

Tanya blinks a few times as if startled. Her eyes flash angrily, but then a bemused grin crosses her beautiful face.

"So you've discussed the offer you made me with Isabella."

"Of course I have. I told you, Tanya, Bella and I have no secrets."

She narrows her eyes once more.

"Tell me, Isabella, are you aware of the estate's rich history, about its reputation?"

I quirk a brow her way. "You must have missed the part where I went into the estate's rich history and reputation in my article – both times you read it."

I hear Edward's low chuckle while Tanya appears to bristle quietly.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I did miss that part. The house…it has a rich, well-respected reputation, having been handed down for generations through the Masen line; a family which was once even more politically connected than the Martins. This house has hosted more than one President, and I'd once hoped…" she trails off, sighing heavily. "Well," she grins again, "the point is, this house held a lot of potential, but potential can only get you so far, especially once your reputation is damaged. You can have unlimited potential, a whole lot of admiration, but once you lose your reputation, you might as well have nothing."

And finally, finally we get to the crux of this entire visit.

Edward and I had spoken about it, and apparently he was right. I'm starting to see that he was right about a lot of things, though I'm still having a difficult time understanding how she couldn't have really wanted him.

"You want Edward to speak on behalf of your father in exchange for your return of his house."

Tanya offers me her signature smile, but I see it so differently now, even differently than from just a few minutes ago. It's a cold, hateful smile.

"She's beautiful _and_ smart, Edward," Tanya submits, seemingly genuine. "Congratulations."

"Yes, she is," Edward responds.

"Seeing as you're so bright, Isabella, you must see how this is a win-win situation for everyone all around. It will restore good feelings between both families, put everything in the past, and allow everyone to get on with his or her life. You and Edward can raise your daughter in his family home without concern to time of year or agreements of having to share. My father can continue his campaign without the shadow of what Edward's father has done tainting his every move," she sneers disgustedly. And Edward..." she looks up at Edward, "Edward, _you_ can continue in politics indefinitely. As I said, a good reputation is everything and right now, your reputation is still very good. Who knows, in a few years, you can even try another run for the Senate. Anything is possible in this country. And then between both of our families, we can shape the country's future! But you need to _maintain_ your good reputation, and my father needs to _restore_ his, otherwise…" she sighs dramatically.

"Do we have a deal?" she inquires, her eyes solely on Edward.

My heart pounds in my chest.

It would be the easy choice, that goes without question. Edward makes a statement on behalf of Aro Martin, simply claiming that the President had no involvement whatsoever in the cover-up that kept his daughter from him. Martin would probably be re-elected and any animosity against Edward would have to be swept under the rug, and the buzz around Edward, Ellie and I would eventually die down. Edward would have his house back, his daughter's house back, and we could all go on with our lives.

It would be the most straightforward solution.

But it would be a solution based on lies.

I'm not that stupid, naïve nineteen year old girl anymore. I know that this is how politics work, that this is the way the world works: a favor for a favor. One hand greases the other. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Michael has an entire team dedicated to lobbying Congress for what amounts to political favors that border on illegal and unethical.

Yes, this is how the world works, and so what right do I have to ask Edward to continue sacrificing to do things any differently? Besides, in the long run, if we could just make all this ugliness disappear more quickly, it would make life easier for Ellie as well.

But it would all be a lie.

They _hurt_ Ellie. From the moment of her birth, she had to grow up without a father, and while both Edward and I share responsibility there, it doesn't excuse the parts any of them played in helping it along.

They _helped_ to take her father away from her, and if Edward goes along with this, Tanya and Aro Martin will bear no repercussions for that.

Slowly, with my chest heaving with fear and apprehension, I look up once more towards Edward, fearing the politician in him, fearing that Tanya's easy, seductive offer will be too much to deny.

His eyes are on Tanya, but when he senses me looking at him, he turns his gaze down to me.

His jaw is set tight, and for a moment, his face is still unreadable, but when he realizes it's me he's looking at, when his attention is drawn away from her, the mask falls. He quirks one eyebrow at me and I know. In his heart, he's already made his decision, but he's waiting for my answer anyway because we're a team.

So when I slowly shake my head, he smiles quickly before turning an impassive glare towards Tanya.

"You'll sign your share of the house back to me, Tanya, but I'm not publicly releasing your father from the part he played in keeping me away from Bella and my daughter. I'm not lying to the public for him."

Tanya's chest heaves angrily, all show of congeniality completely gone. She sneers at Edward.

"And what makes you think I'll sign my share back over to you in exchange for absolutely nothing?"

"You and I both know why you'll do it."

Her face contorts in horror, looking between me and Edward, and she quickly rises from her seat, slamming her palms against the edge of the desk.

"Tell her to leave, Edward. You and I have private matters to discuss. Tell her to leave!"

For one split second, I'm afraid that Edward will dismiss me, but he squeezes my hand tightly, and I hear his calm, in control voice.

"I will not ask her to leave, Tanya. She's my partner in everything."

"Tell her to fucking leave! We've got things to discuss!"

"Are you sure you want to go down this road, Tanya, instead of just signing the papers civilly? Because you and I have nothing to discuss that Bella doesn't already know."

"You told her?" she shrieks in disbelief.

"Tanya, I've been trying to explain to you, over and over, that Bella and I have no secrets."

"You stupid asshole! She's a journalist!" she spits.

"Tanya, what we're discussing right now is a personal matter," I say, just as calmly as Edward.

She glares down at me skeptically, eyes full of animosity.

"If you simply sign the papers, Tanya, this won't have to get any uglier. Neither Edward nor I want that, but this house doesn't belong to you," I say sedately. "You just told me about how this house has been handed down the Masen line for generations. This was Edward's mother's house. She left it to _him_ as part of his legacy. Now it's my daughter's legacy by birthright."

She positively glowers at me, her eyes burning with pure hatred, but I'm no longer frightened or intimidated by her. She is everything Edward warned me she'd be and nothing more.

Suddenly, she smiles cryptically. "Outspoken, aren't you? Would you say that in public, Isabella?" She mimics my accent.

"I'm not ashamed, Tanya, if that's what you mean. Edward and I did nothing to be ashamed of, whereas you…"

Her nostrils flare, and she turns back to Edward.

"My…indiscretion would be simple enough to justify. I was pushed to it. My husband paid me no attention because his mind was apparently on someone else. The public still loves me, Edward. We'll see how long it takes for them to take sides: their home-grown American sweetheart," – she turns her hateful glare to me once more – "or your little English whore," she sneers.

I feel my scalp bristle with fury, but Edward holds me down before I can get up – which is probably a good thing all things considered.

His voice isn't quite as composed when he speaks next. It shakes with barely repressed fury.

"If you ever call Isabella anything like that again, in private or in public, I'll make sure that those pictures of you on your back under your father's then Chief-Of-Staff are splattered all over every newsstand in this country so fast you'll get the whiplash you should've gotten then. And then we'll see who the whore is."

Tanya head jerks back as if Edward has reached out and physically slapped her; her eyes grow wide with shock and yes, fear.

I try to keep my features schooled into passiveness, but I'm startled as well. Edward has told me plenty about Tanya. That first affair he uncovered about her hadn't been the only – as he found out later on. But he'd never mentioned the President's Chief-of-Staff.

His fingers grip mine tightly, so tight it's almost painful, but I hold on to him because I have a feeling that he needs support right now.

"You didn't know I knew about that, did you?" His voice is devoid of any emotion; it sounds icy and calculating; this is the Edward I imagined during our years apart, a side of Edward I've never seen in person – and it sends a chill up my spine.

"You thought I only knew of your extra-curricular activities with that attorney in your office." He chuckles, while Tanya looks horrified.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really, Tanya? Did you really think I wouldn't hear about them? I mean, you were pretty discreet for a while, but then you simply got sloppy, as if you wanted to get caught. Is that it? Were you simply tired of pretending-"

"Fuck you, Edward!"

My mind is reeling. I picture Tanya with the President's current Chief-of-Staff: a short, stocky man with beady eyes and a receding hairline.

But then I remember what Edward just said: "_under your father's then Chief-of-Staff."_

Oh my God. Oh my God, I remember President Martin's former Chief-of-Staff, and suddenly it all makes sense; why Tanya never really wanted Edward.

Meanwhile, she's bristling with fury. "You have no proof."

Edward grins coolly. "You know, I really hate playing these sorts of games, but I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure that neither you, nor your father, nor my father, basically _anyone_, ever tries to hurt Bella or Elizabeth again. Let's put all our cards on the table here. This isn't just about the house, Tanya. This is about ensuring that your father knows to stay away from my family, and I'll do whatever I have to do to ensure that."

I'm so bewildered I can do nothing but grab onto his hand like a life-line.

"Are you sure you want to play these games with my father, Edward?" Tanya counters. "Let me give you a little piece of advice for old times sakes. Don't let the fact that you appear to have gotten your father under control get to your head because Carlisle Cullen is no Aro Martin."

"Oh, I'm quite aware of what your father is. But you're right about one thing, Tanya. I don't _want_ to do this. I don't want to involve my family, my real family, in another scandal." His voice drops a few octaves, threatening and deadly. "But what you don't seem to realize is that I'm not the same Edward that your father and mine thought they could use like a fucking puppet. What are you going to tell me next, that you didn't know of my daughter?"

She glares at him, but doesn't respond.

"You aren't going to stand there and try to tell me that after my father, your father and you took the time to track me down in that London Suite, they decided to keep you out of the loop for the rest of it, are you? Or are you going to try to tell me that when I came back from London and you looked at me day after day, watched me turn into a man as dead and heartless as both your father and mine, never questioning why, you knew nothing? Because that would make you one of two things here, Tanya: incredibly stupid, or incredibly selfish, and we both know that no matter what you may be, you're not a stupid woman."

"You bastard," she spits.

He snorts. "The point is that despite all interference, I've found my family, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that neither your family nor my father ever hurt my daughter and her mother again, and that _does_ include blowing the lid off of a scandal that will completely annihilate your father's political legacy. Not because of what your preferences may be, Tanya, but because while you sit here and talk about how my father used government funds to pay for the P.I. – which he did and for which he will pay for – your father promoted that Chief-of-Staff to Secretary of Treasury in exchange for silence. No, I don't like playing these games; they make me feel as cheap and dirty as our fathers, but if you leave me no choice, I'll do it. So if anyone needs to tread carefully here, it's you."

"How long have you been planning this?" she snarls.

"Long enough to have it all figured out. And just in case something…unexpected ever happens to me, I've got it set up so that this information hits the newsstands the next day."

I'm fucking terrified, but I refuse to let it show. Edward is playing fucking hard ball with the U.S. President's only daughter – who looks absolutely livid.

"Do you think…do you really think my father would _hurt_ you?"

"I would hope not," he chuckles lightly, but then with a grimace adds, "but I'm no longer underestimating your father or mine. Call it insurance."

Tanya's chest heaves up and down. The pretty flower prints on her expensive dress undulate like waves, like a breeze blowing the blooms in the air. She suddenly reaches back into her bag and rifles through it angrily, whipping out a folder and throwing it haphazardly over Edward's desk; the papers splay out all over.

"Here's your fucking house. You're going to need somewhere to retreat to and lick your wounds once Daddy's done with both of you. Besides, it's useless to me now anyway. Once, it would've been the house of the President of the United States. It would've had glory and honor and power, and _I_ would've still had a piece of that. Now it'll never be more than one in a string of pretty mansions on the East Coast because _you_ will never make it past Congressman. My father has his own insurance, Edward. I came here extending an olive branch, hoping we could work this out amicably, but my father will not lose this election over something so stupid! He _will_ attack both of your reputations, drag both of you through the mud until _he_ comes out looking like a shiny new penny again! I'm warning you. The elections are only a couple of months away, and he won't wait too much longer, so get your head out of your ass and put out that statement!"

She turns her furious gaze towards me once more, this time leaning across the desk.

"And you," she hisses, "do you even realize how much you ruined from the moment you crossed his path? Not only did you ruin his future, but mine as well!"

I make an effort to move, but Edward holds me in place. This time, though, I take his hand and remove it from where he's keeping me against the chair. I'm not going to hit her, or strike her in any physical sense.

Leaning in myself, I bring my face to within a couple of inches of hers, bracing my hands over the desk.

She's beautiful, but her anger distorts her horribly.

"If I took anything away from you that you feel you were entitled to, I certainly didn't do it knowingly, or on purpose. You had your chance, Tanya. You did everything you could to keep him on the path your father and his father had carved out for him. You had years to mold him into what you thought he should be. In the end, when he turned away from you, I wasn't even around. I had no part in it."

I cock my head sideways, searching her cool, blue eyes.

"But you did know of me and of our daughter," I continue with conviction because yes, she knew. It's plain as day on her face, and she doesn't even try to deny it at this point. "When you and your father took Edward from us, you did it knowingly _and_ purposely. I won't ask for an apology for me, or for my daughter, because from what I've seen of you, you're incapable of feeling remorse. But _I_ won't apologize for what you feel _you_ lost. As for Edward, I didn't ruin his future. I _gave_ him a future."

The utter loathing in her eyes darkens them to a midnight blue, but I won't back down. Her eyes shoot daggers for a few endless seconds, but then with a violent huff, she turns and storms out of the office, her heels pounding over the smooth tiles as she makes her way through the halls.

Jasper peeks in quickly.

"Jasper, make sure she leaves directly," Edward instructs, and Jasper hurries out.

For half a minute, I simply sit still, overwhelmed by the strange confrontation. Finally, Edward moves around the chair and swivels me around to him, dropping to his knees in front of me. He picks up my hand, the same one he'd been holding throughout the entire exchange and kisses the top tenderly, his eyes firmly one mine.

"Are you alright?"

"Not right now, no," I snort honestly, watching the way his forehead creases, his eyes crinkle with concern. I don't want him to worry, so I add, "But I will be." And when he moves in and wraps his arms around me, when I'm cocooned in the warmth of his strong chest, when I'm consumed with the feeling of safety that he's always given me, I believe it wholeheartedly.

"You warned me that it might get worse before it gets better."

He sighs deeply, tightening his hold on me. "Yes, I did," he says quietly. "Bella…" he pulls away and meets my gaze, "Jasper, Emmett and I have already discussed this. I'm not surprised that Martin has taken this approach, but we can handle this however you want. I don't want you to be afraid or-"

"Shh," I lean in and kiss him softly, drawing in a deep breath. His scent fills my senses, and though I know that I can take care of myself, though I know that I can take care of Ellie, though I know that I can make it on my own, that's not why I'm not afraid.

"I'm not afraid. I'm really not. No matter what happens, as long as I have Ellie and you, Edward, I'm not afraid."

Once, I faced threats alone. Edward faced threats on his own too, and though we survived, it was half a life, without the one who would've made us _both_ stronger.

This time, they may come at us full throttle, but this time, we're no longer facing them divided. We have friends, we have family.

And most importantly, we have each other.

Edward grins at me, wrapping me in his arms once more.

"You're my rock, Bella."

"And you're mine."

They can bring it on.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Love hearing from you guys, and I apologize that I haven't been able to get back to any reviews lately. As you can tell by the one update a week you've been getting as opposed to two, things are busy with RL, and I'm sure you'd much rather have an update than responses, but please know that I read and appreciate and LOVE every single review and every time I hear from you guys.**

*****And before I forget, the question of Jasper and Alice's age difference came up a few times in a few reviews. :) To clear it up, Jasper is 27, and Alice is 19, so yes, there's a bit of an age gap there. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' where we goof around, post teasers and just general silliness, is on my profile. :)**


	37. Chapter 37 The Secondary Love Story

**A/N: Thanks for continuing to pray for Hailey. She's definitely improving!**

**Some of you are wondering how many chapters are left. If I have to put a number on it, I'll say about 4 or 5 regular chapters, the Epilogue, and then once we're done I did promise a couple of outtakes from E's POV, of Chapters 1 and 3, so we're looking at somewhere in the low forties for total number of chapters.**

**BUT…as most of you probably know, I'm a very wordy chick, so though I have an outline and know how and where this ends, sometimes some parts take more words for me to describe than I'd envisioned, so do not quote me on those numbers! **

**But basically, yeah, that's what's left.**

**In that vein, I plan for this and the next chapter to be the last two chapters from E's POV. :(**

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 37 – The Secondary Love Story**

**EPOV**

"This is more or less what we expected," Jasper confirms.

He's pacing back and forth before my desk, in front of an audience which includes Emmett, Alice, Aunt Esme, as well as Bella and me. With Elizabeth in bed for the night, we've called this meeting to let the rest of our family know of the shit that may be coming down the pipe in the near future, and make sure that we're _all_ ready.

So while Esme, Emmett and Alice listen intently from the leather chairs in front of my desk, I'm seated at my own chair with Bella settled on my lap, her arms wrapped loosely around my neck while my arms are around her waist keeping her braced against me. Her body is a warm weight that keeps me focused, reminds me of what my priorities are; of why I'm willing to do anything and everything to keep this warmth with me forever. I wasn't exaggerating before when I called her my rock. When I think back to what my life has been over the past seven years, I realize I was just floating around on imagined responsibilities and priorities with nothing to ground me, nothing to hold me down and anchor me to the real world. I was no good to anyone - not the country, least of all myself.

Now Bella and Elizabeth are my anchors.

My thoughts drift to my father. There was always a hunger for power and control in him; I can remember it as far back as my memory will take me. But I also remember moments of laughter with him, of playfulness, of caring.

When he lost my mother, did he lose his anchor to true priorities, to what really mattered?

Had I not found Bella and Elizabeth, would I have ended up as exactly the kind of man he's become?

That final thought makes me shudder.

Bella must feel my shudder, because her eyes meet mine. She smiles, and with that one action she chases all dark thoughts away, making me thank whatever higher power may be out there that I did find her and our daughter, grateful that she was willing to give our love a second chance and that somehow that second chance has turned into what we have now – which is more than I ever dared wish for.

Jasper is still talking, and yes, I'm listening closely, but my head is in so many places at once. My eyes wander over the view outside of the windows, where a half moon now shines over darkened grass and bushes surrounding a glittering pool. The evening lanterns add more light, illuminating the place to where we sometimes retreat at night to laugh and relax, where Elizabeth and Bella have been receiving swimming lessons from Esme and me for the past few evenings. I smile faintly, remembering Elizabeth playing and giggling in there just a few hours ago, before the sun went down on this final day of our end-of-summer vacation.

It's been…an interesting summer to say the least.

Bella reappeared in my life out of the blue, storming in like an angry hurricane hell-bent on overturning everything around me.

Well, she sure as hell did that, though perhaps not in the way she'd first planned. She gave me a daughter – our daughter - and while it did change everything, it's been for the better. That once furious hurricane now sits on my lap, no longer angry, but rather as tender as a warm breeze; all the while she distractedly plays with the small hairs at the nape of my neck.

I _refuse_ to lose this. I'll never allow it. I'll never take either Bella or Elizabeth's presence in my life for granted because the road to get here was long and hard as hell; it put both Bella and I through the fucking ringer, and I'll fight for _this_ with all that I have and with all that I am. I'll go up against anyone who wants to disrupt our lives again – even if he is arguably the most powerful man in the world.

"Martin had a Plan A, which was apparently getting Edward to make that statement," Jasper continues, still pacing back and forth. When he's completely submerged in the business at hand, when he's in his zone, it's hard to get him out of it. "Now that he sees that Edward won't make that statement, he'll switch to Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Alice asks.

Jasper stops pacing, almost abruptly, and turns to give her his full attention.

"Plan B is to try to discredit Edward and Bella, to smear their relationship as well as their reputations."

"But I don't understand," Alice asks with a frown. "How will that help President Martin?"

"Think about it, Alice," Jasper says, his tone markedly gentler than it was just a few seconds ago. "If Martin were to discredit Edward and Bella as a couple, what would it do to how the public views them right now?"

While Alice appears to ponder this, Jasper takes a few slow, seemingly patient steps closer to her, which is actually a bit surprising because he was just in his zone, and when he's there, he's usually anxious to just stay there instead of having to stop to explain things.

"It would end the public's fascination with my sister and Edward."

"Exactly." Jasper smiles so widely you'd think he was proud or something. "Right now, because of the strong feelings that both Bella and Edward have shown towards each other and their daughter, whoever was involved in keeping the three of them apart is on the American public's shit list."

Emmett snorts at the analogy.

"But if the public is somehow led to believe that the relationship between Bella and Edward isn't real, that those feelings aren't genuine or lasting, then they'll stop caring, and if they stop caring-"

"Then they'll stop wandering about what, if anything, Martin had to do with their separation," Aunt Esme finishes for Jasper.

"And if the speculation about Martin's involvement ends, then he can go back to his safe campaign without having to worry about anybody trying to dig deeper into this whole, rotten business," Emmett adds, sneering in disgust. "Because if the American public wants to know, then the press will dig. If the public doesn't care, then it leaves things alone."

We're all silent for a couple of minutes, absorbing all this info. All the while, Bella keeps running her fingers up and down the nape of my neck. I don't even think she realizes she's doing it, or the comfort it provides me. We can sit around here and talk about hell freezing over on earth, but as long as she keeps doing that, I couldn't care less.

Jasper sighs. When he moves away from Alice and starts pacing again, I swear he looks almost pissed off to have to do so.

A strange sensation, almost like a thought that isn't quite clear yet, pokes around in the corners of my mind.

"They won't go to Plan B unless things look dire, because it's a risky strategy that Martin knows very well could backfire, not only because Edward is prepared to retaliate, but also because the public might be so taken by Bella and Elizabeth at this point that any sort of attack on them will automatically be thought to come from the Martin camp."

"They won't go after Bella unless they're recklessly desperate because the second they decide to attack Bella in any way, I _will_ release those pictures. So they'll start with me, and possibly even you guys."

"What would they want with any of us?" Alice questions again.

Esme, who's sitting right next to her, reaches out and puts a comforting hand on top of hers. "Alice, Honey, all of us in this room, we're a family. What Martin would hope to accomplish is to dig up anything he can consider dirt on any of us, so that in the public's eye, the bad publicity would reflect on Edward and Bella as well, and hopefully turn public opinion away from them." She holds Alice's gaze.

"That's right," I confirm with a head nod. "That's why we wanted all of you in on this meeting."

"And I'll be calling Mum too, Alice," Bella adds. "I don't want to worry her, but we've got to let her know what's going on."

"What about Rose?" Alice asks.

Bella sighs. "Yes, you're right. I do need to speak to Rose...about a few things actually…"

"I think that's a good idea," Emmett pipes in.

I frown his way. In the past few days, I've gotten the feeling that I'm missing something when it comes to Emmett. Granted, I've been a bit preoccupied with other things, but between him and Jasper, I'm starting to think that there's something else going on around here that I'm not privy to.

Emmett claps his hands together once. "Well, as long as they don't find that body I've got buried a few miles from here, we should be okay…" He bursts out laughing. "Just kidding. I've got nothing to hide, so Martin and his cronies can kiss my ass."

"I echo Emmett's sentiments," Aunt Esme says with a wry grin.

Despite the topic of conversation, Esme's comment manages to make us all chuckle - all except Jasper.

And actually, Alice isn't laughing either.

Jasper's head is down, as if he's…hiding.

"What about you, Jasper?" I ask him, grinning because I've got Bella, and I've got my daughter, both safe and sound and happy here with me. There's nothing Martin can do to take them away. Yes, I've made a few mistakes in my life, but Bella knows about all of them. I've done nothing I need to hide from her or from the public. What could I possibly have to fear?

Absolutely nothing.

"Actually, Edward…"

"What, Jasper?" I smirk. "Are you going to tell us that you've got a body hidden somewhere too?"

Bella snorts in amusement. She's pulling harder at the hair on the nape of my neck, and I know we're both getting anxious to end this meeting. Yes, this fucking business is something we're going to have to be vigilant about for the next few weeks, until the elections, but Bella and I are finally on the same page about so much, and I'm pretty sure one of those things is tonight. It's our final night here for the foreseeable future. We're heading out into the real world tomorrow.

And we've got one last night on the yacht to get to.

But when Jasper looks up at me, his eyes quickly flashing to Alice, who's gazing at him with a pair of big doe eyes and biting her lip, I finally figure out what the hell is going on around here, and I think I might choke the living shit out of my cousin slash Chief-of-Staff.

Jasper must see his imminent death in my eyes because before I can pick Bella up off my lap and do just that, he rushes towards the door.

"Edward, wait, wait! Can we go speak in private for a minute, please?" he blurts out quickly.

For a few seconds, I simply stare at him, nostrils flaring.

When I turn to Bella, her own livid eyes are on Alice. I can tell from her expression that she's reached pretty much the same conclusion I have.

With a deep breath, I place a hasty kiss on her temple. "I'll be right back," I say through clenched teeth.

"Yes, so will Alice and I," she growls lowly.

Walking out behind Jasper, I catch a glimpse of Aunt Esme, who gives me a pleading look, but I can promise nothing at this moment. Emmett, on the other hand looks like he's holding in a bout of raucous laughter. I smirk his way and walk out of the office and down the long hallway, which leads into a small sitting room and is where Jasper finally turns in. He turns around.

"Are you fucking crazy?" I hiss. "She's Bella's sister, and she's only nineteen years old!"

He puts his hands up, palms out towards me. "Edward, we didn't plan this, it just happened."

"Did you sleep with her?" I ask in horror.

"No! Of course not! I mean, we've fooled around a bit, but I respect her. Besides, we've only known each other for a week! What kind of girl do you think she is?"

In his defense, and the only reason his teeth remain in his mouth a second longer is because his face contorts in shame when he seems to realize what he's just implied.

"Jesus, Edward, I didn't mean it that way! I realize it's different! You and Bella only had one weekend into which to fit an entire relationship! Look, I know that Alice is young-"

"She's barely nineteen, Jasper," I repeat through clenched teeth, my fists clenched at my sides. "You're _eight_ god-damned years older than her!"

"Like I said," he hisses back, "I didn't plan this!"

"Then stop it-"

"I didn't plan it, but she means the world to me now, Edward."

I shut my eyes tight, breathing out through my nostrils and bring a fisted hand up to my forehead to try to stop the fucking migraine that's just started there.

"Look," I hear Jasper say, "do you remember a few months ago, when Bella first came back into your life?"

I open my eyes again, glaring at him, and nod tightly.

"The last time she was at this house, she left suddenly and the next thing I knew, you'd chased her all the way back to England. You disregarded all your responsibilities, all your duties, to follow one woman half way across the world. Then, you stayed there with her for over a week, only to come back to the U.S. to announce that you were dropping out of the Senatorial race and putting all of your previous goals and plans on the backburner for the foreseeable future. I stood behind you Edward, every step of the way," he stresses, "even though I honestly didn't understand that shit at all. I mean," he snorts, "yes, you had a daughter now, and I can only imagine what that feels like, but what you did, you did not only for your daughter, but for Bella as well, because of your love for her. _That's_ what I didn't get."

"What are you trying to say about-"

"I'm not trying to say anything against Bella. I'm just saying that _I_," he bangs his chest with his knuckles, "couldn't picture any woman being worth the kind of sacrifices you were ready to make for Bella. But I get it now."

I narrow my eyes at him.

"Yes, Alice is young, and yes, we've only known each other one week, but I get it because right now, if you ask me to step down as your Chief-of-Staff, if you ask me to choose, I'll choose her."

Now what the fuck am I supposed to say to that? How am I supposed to ask him not to love Bella's sister the way that I love Bella?

So instead, I turn to the wall and bang my forehead against it a couple of times, groaning out my frustration and hoping I can make all this disappear if I just bang my head hard enough.

"We were planning on speaking to both you and Bella today," I hear Jasper saying. "We spoke to my mom this morning, and she suggested-"

I stop banging my forehead just long enough to turn and raise a brow. "Aunt Esme knew?"

"She made us promise that we'd speak to the both of you before we left the house."

I straighten myself up again, squaring my shoulders and inching closer to Jasper, but he's only about an inch shorter than me and stands his ground firmly. I glare at him.

"Your timing is impeccable, you know that, don't you?"

At least he has the grace to look apologetic for that much. "I know it's bad timing, but like I said-"

"Yeah, yeah, you didn't plan it. But you do know what will happen if this gets out, especially after Tanya's threats this morning? That age gap _will_ be a huge factor, Jasper, as well as the fact that she's Bella's little sister, a young college kid, and you're Congressman Edward Cullen's twenty-seven year old Chief-of-Staff! Only God knows how Martin's camp will spin this!"

"Do you think I haven't thought of that? Do you think I haven't pictured every scenario since the minute Tanya arrived? You and I knew this was coming, and Edward, the last thing I've wanted to be is a liability to you and Bella, but I don't know how to handle this." He leans up against the wall and grips his blond hair and yeah, I feel sorry for him for a second. "Tell me what you want me to do, but don't ask me to break things off with her," he shakes his head, "because that I can't do."

I lean against the wall myself and grip my own hair in my hand - it must be a Masen thing. Beside me, I can practically feel his desperation, sense the frustration wafting off of him. As difficult as it's going to make everything, I can tell he really cares about her. Fuck.

"Jasper. Edward."

We both turn towards his mother's soft voice.

"Why didn't you tell me, Aunt Esme?" I fire quickly her way.

"It wasn't for me to tell, Edward." She stands her ground between us, putting a hand on either one of our shoulders. "I love you both very much, and I raised you both to be more brothers than cousins. Now I know that this summer that relationship has been sorely tested, especially for you Edward. You've had to redefine your family, but Edward, family will _always_ be family. Sometimes its members change and shift and grow, but in the end, we're all each other has. At all cost, we have each other's backs."

I think through my Aunt Esme's words, dissect them in light of everything that's happened this summer. My definition of family has certainly changed not just over this season, but also over the past few years. My true legacy lies asleep in her bedroom upstairs, and I've realized that family does _not_ equate power – at least not in the way my father and Aro Martin once tried to make me believe.

"I need you to stay away from Alice for now."

"Edward," Jasper begins to protest.

"No. Listen to me," I say firmly, leaving no room for argument. "We're all leaving Oyster Bay tomorrow, and when we do, we leave the protective shell that it's encased us in for the past week. We'll be back to reality, back to the press, and back to Martin's threats looming over all of us now, _including_ Alice."

Jasper's nostrils flare, but he remains still. "If this relationship between you and Alice leaks out now, Jasper, Martin will jump at the opportunity to hurt Bella through her sister."

"I won't let-"

"Do you really want to risk that?" I ask him. "Alice is almost exactly where Bella was seven years ago. Do you really want to risk hurting her?"

Jasper closes his eyes, breathing out heavily through his nose.

"I'm not asking you to break things off with her, but we have to proceed carefully here and slowly. Alice will be starting her exchange program this week and needs to focus on that, and you and I, Jasper, need to be focused on taking care of those who matter to us. It's only two months to the elections." I grip his shoulder firmly. "Can I count on you to remain focused until then? Once the elections are over and we know where the chips have fallen, we can all breathe a bit easier. But I need you focused right now. Can I count on you, Jasper?"

He doesn't answer right away, but when he reopens his eyes, he gives me a tight nod.

OOOOOOOOOO

I find Bella on our boat, standing by the railing and staring up at the black sky, littered with stars that'll be much harder to see once we're back in the city. I come up behind her and place my hands on her shoulders, dropping my chin to the space next to her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

She draws in a long, heavy breath. "She's only nineteen, Edward."

"I know." I skim her neck with my nose, feeling the skin there prickle.

"He's twenty-seven."

"I know."

"If this gets out, the Martin Administration will have a field day."

With a deep sigh, I angle my face forward, staring out at the darkness with her.

"I thought of that too, but Bella…he does seem to really care about her."

When she doesn't say anything, I straighten up and turn her around to face me.

"Bella, are you upset because of how young she is, because of the age difference between them, because of what the Martin camp might do with this info…or because of what happened between us?"

She sighs and drops her eyes to my chest, and that's when I know that it's at least some of the latter.

"I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"I don't want to see her get hurt either. I don't want to see either one of them get hurt."

She nods, eyes still on my chest. I reach out and lift her chin up to me, so I can see her eyes. So that she can see mine.

"Bella, don't judge Jasper based on my mistakes."

"If this gets out, if it turns into a scandal, and he decides it's simply too much…I don't want that to happen to her. She's my little sister, Edward," she whispers in a pleading tone.

"Bella…I've asked him to take it slowly with her and to…_try_ to put a hold on things as much as possible until after the elections. I think that's the best we can do right now."

"That's what I suggested as well."

"And what did Alice say?"

She snorts. "She says she doesn't want to make things harder for us. That she and Jasper have spoken about it, and if we all believe it will make things easier if she and he put a hold on things until after the election, then she'll go along with it for me. But she says she loves him. That if hiding for now is the strategy we want to take with Martin, she won't go against it, but neither will she give up Jasper."

Bella grins wryly, but there's a note of apprehension to her smile.

"Bella, I value and treasure your opinion more than anyone's. If you think that asking them to hold off is wrong, that we're taking the wrong strategy, if you think that I'm taking this too far and that I should just-"

"Shh." She places two fingers over my mouth and I close my eyes. "Martin is a manipulative, deceitful man, and I won't ask you to continue to compromise your beliefs for him, Edward. I don't know whether this country is better served with a man like him leading it, but what I do know is that he shouldn't win the election at the expense of your beliefs and your honesty. I won't have you compromising yourself to make things easier for him or for us. And I won't let him hurt my sister either."

I pull her in and wrap her in my arms. For a while there, when she would let me hold her, I could still feel the hesitancy in her frame, I could still feel her holding herself off, protecting herself.

But now she holds on to me as tightly as I do her, because she's completely mine again, and this is why we have to be so careful for the next couple of months.

We've built a strong base for our future. I won't allow anyone to tear it down.

When we pull apart, she grins, shaking her head.

But then her eyes narrow.

"Edward, Love, what happened to your forehead?"

OOOOOOOOOO

Later below deck, we spend the night trying to make up for seven years of lost time. Her sweet moans fill the ocean air surrounding us. She leaves me with no doubt that she's entirely mine, and she claims me with the same fervor, branding herself over every part of my body and making me cry out her name over and over. It's a good thing we're not in the main house, because there's no holding back.

When morning comes, we wake up tangled in each other, spent and tired, yet despite the threats that have been thrown at us, we're content in the knowledge that we'll be facing them all together.

OOOOOOOOOO

In the morning, we spend a couple of final hours hanging out on the beach. Jasper and Alice sit off on their own for a while, but it's their last few hours of freedom too, so neither Bella nor I will begrudge them their time, especially when they've agreed to be cooperative for the next couple of months.

Bella, Ellie and I are trying to teach Oyster how to catch a Frisbee, though he may still be too young to learn. Elizabeth is having fun anyway as Oyster hops happily behind her every time she throws the Frisbee, and then just sits there and stares at her, making us all laugh.

While Bella and Ellie play with Oyster, Emmett and I have a long discussion on Bella and Elizabeth's security detail for the foreseeable future now that they'll be in New York City, and especially in light of Tanya's visit yesterday. We agree that it should be ramped up a bit, probably have a guy dedicated to Alice too, but without letting it disturb any of them, because I know Bella for one would be pissed off if she noticed it. Then we get into a discussion of Tanya's visit itself. Though I'm grateful for the fact that Bella is such a smart woman and that I find it so easy and helpful to speak to her, Emmett has been my buddy for years. That's not going to change.

"So do you think Martin would try to physically harm Bella or Ellie?" Emmett asks.

I think it through once more, just as I've been thinking over that same question ever since I figured out how involved Martin was in keeping Bella and I apart.

"No," I say with true conviction. "If I did, I would've never allowed them to come to the States. Aro is a lot of things, but he wouldn't take it that far."

"Yeah, I agree," Emmett says with a nod of the head, "but as for his other threats…"

"Oh yeah, of those I do believe he's capable."

"You have to be ready for the worst here, Ed, and willing to take it all the way."

I hold Emmett's gaze. "I'm ready and willing, Emmett. Both Bella and I are."

Emmett grins. "I can see that. Well," he says, crossing his arms across his chest, "you handle things on your end. As for me and my team, we'll do everything to keep the Swan women- oops, and the little Cullen girl," he adds wryly because my daughter now officially carries her paternal surname, "safe and sound."

I clap him on the shoulder and grin smugly. "If things work out the way I hope, only one of those three will be Swan much longer." But then I glance over at Jasper and Alice and roll my eyes. "Or maybe even none of them."

Emmett bends over with laughter. He finds this whole "Jasper and Alice" thing hilarious, probably because it finally got Alice off his back.

"Thanks, Man," I say, once his chortles die down, "for everything. You're a part of this family too, Emmett, I hope you know that, and if there's ever anything I can do to repay you for the care you give my daughter…"

He eyes me speculatively. "Ellie is special to a lot of people, Edward. I watch after her because I care about her, but also because I care about those who love her. When this…threat from the Martins is over, when you don't have this looming over your head anymore, you and I do have to have talk about how you can repay me, how you can accept all those who truly love Elizabeth."

I frown in confusion, but he simply laughs again and claps me in return.

"Not now, Man. Not now." And with that, he walks off and I look back towards Bella and Elizabeth. Our daughter is digging holes in the sand while Oyster the puppy helps her furiously with his front paws. I watch them for a few minutes, just taking in the simple sweetness of it. A few feet away, Jasper and Bella are deep in discussion and as curious as I am, I don't want to interrupt. When Bella reaches up and gives Jasper a quick hug, I know we'll all be okay.

I look around at my family. Emmett stands off by himself, arms crossed over his chest as he surveys the entire area. Alice gazes at Jasper as he walks back towards her. Bella watches Jasper and Alice with a note of apprehension and anxiety on her beautiful face. Our daughter plays happily with her puppy. And over by the house…Aunt Esme takes us all in with a small smile on her face.

There's a bit of tension here and there now, and no, it's not the perfect paradise it felt like just a couple of days ago, but my aunt's words come back to me,

"…_family will always be family. Sometimes its members change and shift and grow, but in the end, we're all each other has. At all cost, we have each other's backs."_

No, it's not easy, but we'll get through it together because we _all_ have each other's backs.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Oh, and for those of you who couldn't remember Edward and Bella's ages, she's 26, he's 31.**

**And before you all start yelling at me about how Edward is being a bit of a hypocrite here by asking Jasper and Alice to stay away from each other, even if just for a couple of months, I want you to know that I DO realize it, even though HE may not realize it at the moment.**

**Alright, time to get those big girl panties on for the last few… :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page…**


	38. Chapter 38 - The Bottom of the Boat

**A/N: I was able to get another chapter out this week!**

**Last chapter, I forgot to thank all of you who were concerned about my A/N the chapter before, where I moaned and complained about RL. Everything is good guys, and I'm grateful for that. Just a busy summer is all, but that's all good; spending time with the kiddies and such. :) Thanks so much for your concern though!**

**And...meet me at the end, okay?**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

* * *

**Chapter 38 – The Bottom of the Boat aka Rock Bottom**

**EPOV**

The first Congressional session of a new fiscal year is usually a long one – and this one promises to be no exception. I'm due to spend the first two weeks of September in D.C., but at least I'm able to be in New York for Elizabeth's first day of school.

She wears a uniform: a navy blue jumper with a skirt that barely covers the small knee-scrape she received while hopping from rock to rock on the beach (totally my fault for teaching her how to do it), a crisp, white shirt underneath, and twin pig-tails that Bella has tied with matching navy blue ribbons. I'm almost embarrassingly emotional as Bella and I snap picture after picture, she with the Canon, and I with my phone. Yeah, I've missed a hell of a lot, but I've got this now and damn - it's great.

The entire afternoon, Bella and I exchange phone calls and texts, wondering what our daughter is doing, whether she's making friends, whether she's nervous or even worse, scared.

At the end of the day, when Elizabeth skips out of school towards us surrounded by half a dozen little boys and girls all begging her to say a bunch of phrases in her "cool" accent, Emmett snorts at us.

"Told you those American boys would go wild."

Unfortunately, I do have to go to D.C. despite the fact that I'd rather stay in New York with Bella and Elizabeth. They're settling in well; Elizabeth with first grade, Alice as a college sophomore, and Bella…

For now, Bella spends her days running errands for our daughter and her sister, the press ever on her tail. But Bella is a journalist by trade; she'll get back to it. In the meantime, she keeps the media entertained. She doesn't court them, but she doesn't turn her back on them either because as much as we may want our privacy, we both know that at this point, we need to play the game and play it well.

So play the game is what we do for now. For me, that entails keeping an eye and ear out for anything Martin might have up his sleeve, which leads to some long hours for Jasper, the staff and me.

My Chief of Staff has been a bit subdued since our return from Oyster Bay. I feel like a bit of an asshole for keeping him from Alice, but it _is_ necessary right now, and I know he sees this. If his feelings are real, they'll survive a couple of months' separation. Once the elections are over and Martin's empire is either secure once more, or has crumbled for good, neither Bella nor I will get in Jasper or Alice's way.

Martin's numbers keep getting worse, as much of the public is now convinced that he knew much more than he's letting on regarding Elizabeth and kept quiet for his own nefarious reasons. There's no proof, of course. I'll bet my ass that there are no records of the phone call he made to me in London seven years ago, and though I'd also bet my ass that he sanctioned my father's hiring of the P.I., he's throwing Carlisle under the bus for that one. There's a part of me…yeah, there is a part of me that remembers the man my father once was, and that part of me threatens to feel pity for him. But he made his bed.

So for now, everything around Martin remains speculation. If he were a year or two into his term, he could simply let the speculation die down and then deal with the backlash the way so many presidents have dealt with scandals in the past. However, with the elections less than two months away, he's watching his chances for re-election dwindle. And while he watches that, my staff and I keep an eye on him.

OOOOOOOOOO

The first weekend I'm in D.C., Bella and Elizabeth come down to join me so that we can introduce our daughter to the U.S. capital.

We go on a tour of federal landmarks, starting with the Capitol Building, of course. Elizabeth is fascinated as I point out to her where Daddy and a few other privileged men and women help make the laws of the land she now calls her home. Then we're off to the Jefferson Memorial, which I inform her is dedicated to the third President of our nation and drafter of the Declaration of Independence. The three of us gaze up at the black, marble statue of his likeness while Elizabeth holds Oyster in her arms and tries to get him to focus his attention on the statue.

"He was a great man," I murmur thoughtfully.

"He was a shit-stirrer," Bella whispers. I jerk my head back and turn to look at her. "Imagine starting so much trouble for poor King George the Third simply because of a little under-representation." She grins.

"Careful," I warn her. "You're outnumbered here. These are Elizabeth's forefathers as well as mine."

"Hah!" Bella scoffs before kneeling down behind our daughter, holding on to her shoulders. Her eyes remain locked on mine tauntingly. "Ellie's forefathers are Kings and Vikings. Isn't that right, Elizabeth?" she smiles. "Not some silly men who got together simply because they were cheesed off at being punished for throwing _tea_ off a ship!"

Elizabeth angles her head sideways to look at her mother - and giggles.

I stalk closer to her, and she stands up, holding my gaze.

"You're very well informed on the beginnings of our nation."

She moves in closer still, her chest against mine and reaches up to run one finger down my cheek.

"I once had a very…_deep_ and thorough American Government lesson."

I chuckle and grab her finger, kissing it softly. "I remember. But be nice when it comes to our forefathers. You don't mess with the Continental Congress."

She bursts out laughing.

"Edward, that was so cheesy!"

"I know. I know." I reach down and pick Elizabeth up, who's been watching us curiously. "Elizabeth's forefathers were great colonists and philosophers, critical thinkers and champions of equal rights. Weren't they, Elle?"

A tug of war of sorts ensues where Bella and I pretend to struggle for Elizabeth while she breaks out into fits of laughter at being pulled between us. When Bella stops pulling Elizabeth and pretends to give up, I plant a long, loud kiss on her forehead.

"Time to accept it, Love, you're American now."

She gives me a droll roll of her eyes. "If that's the sacrifice I have to make to be with my two favorite people in the world, then fine, I'll be American," she says with feigned resignation. I can't withhold the smug grin that spreads across my face, because we both know what that really means.

When I tilt my head and kiss her mother soundly on the mouth, Elizabeth giggles again.

"Yay! Daddy, Mummy's American like us!" - Which is pretty hilarious when she says it in such a purely British accent.

The next morning, there are pictures and stories in every major news outlet of our family D.C. tour – of Bella and I flirting in front of our daughter, of "how deeply in love we obviously are," of "the future Camelot" as the three of us are now dubbed. Even Oyster has his moment in the spotlight, with a short paragraph on how adoptions of Labradoodles will now probably go up.

- They also don't fail to mention that our great tour of the capital did _not_ include an inside tour of the White House.

OOOOOOOOOO

Bella's birthday falls on the following weekend, before a one-week break in the Congressional session. When I ask her what she wants for her birthday, she tells me she'd love to go back to Oyster Bay Cove for the weekend. It's been two weeks since we've been back, but it feels like a lot longer with the stress of everything going on. So I consent wholeheartedly because I think it's a great idea, and because I love to see how much Bella and Elizabeth love the house – and now that it's completely ours once more, there's nothing I could want more than to spend a night here, just the three of us, now that everyone is back to their daily routines and homes.

Therefore, Friday evening, that's exactly where we head.

Elizabeth has become an expert at sleeping in her bed by now, so once Bella and I get her tucked in, I take her hand and lead us to our bedroom.

She pauses by the door. "This looks…different," she murmurs.

I hold her gaze. "I had the furniture that was here donated to charity. This is the room's original furniture."

Tanya had the entire room redone after we married, but I want no trace of her, of her family in this house any longer, and I think Bella understands without my having to say it. She looks around the room, taking in the cherry wood furnishings that have replaced Italian lacquer, and gets on her tiptoes, winding her arms tightly around my neck.

"This is so much better," she whispers in my ear

"Yes, it is," I breathe into her hair.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next morning at sunrise, we take out the boat, off of Roosevelt Beach for what will probably be the last time this season. I'm teaching Elizabeth to fish this morning.

"Mummy, aren't you going to fish with us?"

Bella settles herself into the deck chair a few feet away and smiles at our daughter.

"Fishing is a…daddy and daughter activity, Ellie. Your grandfather Charlie used to take Aunty Alice, Aunty Rose and I fishing quite a bit when we were little girls, and now it's your turn to fish with _your_ daddy!" she finishes excitedly.

Elizabeth squeals in delight and turns back to the water, while I smirk at Bella. She chuckles quietly, because we both know she just doesn't want to touch the fish.

So while Bella reads on a deck chair a few feet away and Oyster runs up and down the deck with his tongue flapping all around, Elizabeth and I get down to business. I'm a bit distracted, for a couple of reasons. One of which is the sight of Bella in her white two piece and dark shades. She can go ahead and read to her heart's content, because it's giving me a great view of her perky-

"Daddy, come _on_! You've got to pay attention to what we're doing otherwise we won't catch any fish!"

Bella snorts and I smirk, turning back to the green waters of the Sound. "Sorry, Honey. I'm paying attention now."

OOOOOOOOOO

After an hour or so, we've managed to catch a couple of striped bass and a bluefish, though we only keep the bluefish and catch and release the other two.

"Is that it?" Elizabeth asks.

"That's actually not bad for an hour of fishing."

She purses her lips. I chuckle at her before looking down to where Bella appears to have fallen asleep, her book face down over her stomach, drawing in a deep breath and expelling it slowly before turning back to our daughter.

"Elizabeth, do you want to try catching a bigger fish?"

"What kind of a fish, Daddy?"

I reach into my front pocket and fumble with the bait, grinning.

"Daddy, that's not bait, that's a-"

"Shh." I place a finger over my lips and whisper, "It's special bait, to catch a _mermaid_."

Elizabeth giggles. "Okay," she whispers back.

I secure the bait tightly and hook the bluefish back on, all the while praying that I don't make a major ass of myself in front of my daughter. Before throwing the line over the boat, I double-check to make sure that everything is secure because if I lose this bait I'll be throwing _myself_ off over this damn yacht.

Oyster circles me, wagging his tail and panting.

"There's no way in hell I'm giving you this fish, Buddy," I mutter.

"Daddy, why are you putting that fish back on the-"

"Just watch, Elizabeth," I wink her way, but my heart starts racing when the line goes over.

I clear my throat. "Uhm…Bella, Love, wake up. You don't want to catch too much sun, do you?"

Bella sits up over the towel, one pretty leg bent at the knee. She stretches her arms over her head and smiles, removing her sunglasses.

"What time is it then?"

"Uhm…it's actually your turn to reel in this fish. Right, Elle?"

"Right!" Elizabeth agrees with an empathic nod of her sweet head. She kicks her legs back and forth over her chair; waiting.

Bella squints, giving us a puzzled grin. "_O_-kay."

With a sigh, she gets up and walks to us. I situate her properly in front of the railing and stand behind her, holding her caged between my arms as I hand her the rod while keeping my hands on it too because if she accidentally lets this fish and bait get away, I will cry right here and now. No doubt.

"Alright, slowly and carefully," I murmur, guiding her and helping her reel it in while my heart pounds wildly in my chest, nerves, excitement and a bit of apprehension consume me because seriously, what the hell was I thinking putting _that_ in the water?

The fish soon breaks over the surface and Bella keeps reeling. Elizabeth squeals and claps excitedly, but my heart is beating about triple-time at this point.

"I've got it! I've got it!"

"Careful." Beads of sweat break out over my forehead when the fish lands on the yacht floor with a small thud. I let out the breath I'd been holding. "Now take the fish off the hook."

"Yes, Mummy, take it off the hook."

"What if it starts thrashing all about when I try to take it off?" She shudders.

"It won't thrash. I promise. Go ahead, just take it off the hook."

"How do you know it won't thrash?"

Because it's a non-thrashing fish. Take if off."

"But I'm not sure I remember how…"

"Bella, just take it off the hook." A few more seconds of this and my heart is going to pound right out of my chest.

"Mummy, take it off the hook!"

"Alright, alright." She starts unhooking the fish from the line. "Edward, this fish isn't moving. Perhaps…"

She trails off…staring down at the "bait" when I walk slowly her way and kneel in front of where she kneels with the fish.

"Maybe I'm asking too soon. It's only been a few months since we found each other again, even less than that since we began to rebuild our relationship. But, Bella, in my mind, I've been waiting to ask you this for seven years."

She keeps staring at the ring. A ray of sun catches it and it explodes in a prismatic display of light.

"Maybe I'm being selfish by asking you to bind yourself so permanently to me when only God knows what else is coming our way," I whisper, "but Bella, if I've learned anything in the past few months, in the past few years, it's that I'm _nothing_ without you. _You_ make me strong, _you_ make me brave, _you_ make me strive to be a man who I can be proud of, who you and Elizabeth can be proud of."

Elizabeth must hear her name, because she comes and kneels beside me. Oyster runs to her and she picks him up, holding him against her as she watches us with open curiosity.

"You're the best part of me, and I can't for the life of me fathom a reason why I should wait one more day, one more hour to tell you that I dream of making you my wife, that I've always dreamed of making you my wife, of us having the future I _know_ we were meant to have."

She draws in a few, uneven breaths, her eyes still wide open, intent on the ring.

Oyster suddenly gives a couple of small yelps.

"Shh, quiet Oyster," Elizabeth murmurs softly. "We're waiting for Mummy to answer."

I can't help snorting in amusement, despite the nerves wrecking havoc on my entire system.

"You don't have to answer right away. It's sudden, I know. I understand if you need time to think about it, but I just wanted you to know that when we talked about being a team, I wanted that to mean in every-

"You haven't actually asked me a question yet." She looks up at me.

I don't know whether to laugh, or throw myself over this boat right now, because she looks amused.

"You're _telling_ me that you dream of making me your wife, and now you're _telling_ me that you want me on your team. I mean, sure, I'll be on your team, but where's the question?"

I blink a few times and a slow smile spreads across her face.

"Alright," I grin. "Here's the question. Bella, will you marry me?"

"Now _that's_ a proper question. No, Edward," she chuckles lightly, and I feel my heart drop to my feet before she continues. "No, I don't need more time to think about it because yes, I'll marry you."

I slide my knees across the floor and grab her face between my hands, crashing my mouth to hers while waves of relief and gratitude and pure, unadulterated adoration crash inside me. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her tightly to me.

"Edward, our daughter is watching," she chuckles lowly.

When I release her, Elizabeth stands before us, holding her grandmother's ring out to her mother. Bella takes a few uneven breaths before accepting it.

"Would you mind horribly if I washed it out before I put it on?" she grins wryly.

"No," I snort, "I wouldn't mind at all."

I wrap a hand around the nape of her neck and pull her in, resting my forehead on hers.

"When I grow up, I want a boy to hide a ring in _my_ fish and then ask _me_ to marry him."

Bella and I both burst out laughing, and then I pull Elizabeth in and hold her inside our circle.

"You've still got a few decades before you have to think about that."

"See what you've done now, Edward? You've just given Ellie's future husband absolutely impossible expectations to live up to."

I draw in a deep breath, filling my lungs. "Good."

OOOOOOOOOO

That night, with the balcony windows open to allow the cool, early fall breeze to filter in, I make love to my future wife.

I catch her cries with my mouth, where her breaths mingle with mine - my future wife's breaths.

When she rocks over me, the cool moon glows in the background, outlining her against a dark, ink-colored sky and illuminating the silk strands that splay wildly around her shoulders. She arches her back, rays bounce across her creamy skin; like my hands, they stroke her round breasts - my future wife's breasts.

We've made love so many times in the past couple of weeks, in so many different ways, but now…knowing that soon we'll _finally_ be husband and wife…nothing in the world compares.

OOOOOOOOOO

It doesn't take long for the press to notice the ring on Bella's left hand.

The media goes wild.

The American and British public go wild.

News outlets all hazard to guess when the wedding will take place – some say next year, some say as early as next week. Funny how they seem to know more than we do; Bella and I haven't worked things out that far ahead yet. We're simply trying to get through the first week of November – Election Day. After that, we'll work on a date.

The press interviews everyday people on the street who all wish us the best – some stop to say that they won't be voting for an administration that tried to keep a man away from his daughter and her mother, that it shows that the current President is devious and heartless, others say that whether Martin knew of Elizabeth or not makes no difference in politics and it shouldn't affect his re-election.

The days pass, and as the election looms closer, I'm beginning to breathe easier. With only six weeks left to go, a smart man wouldn't try anything at this point. It's too late, and besides, he _can't_ win this stand-off. He knows I've got damning information against him and that I will _not_ hesitate to release it if he speaks one negative word against Bella.

So while we remain on alert, I refuse to allow it to detract from my first fall season with Bella and our daughter.

On the last weekend of September, Elizabeth and Bella take a trip to an arts and crafts store in midtown. When I arrive at their townhouse, they still haven't returned, but Alice is home, writing a paper for one of her classes.

Like Jasper – like most of us really – she's been holding her breath for the past few weeks, waiting for the elections because she's got a stake in it as much as we do. I know that she and Jasper haven't been in contact, and whenever I see her, I can feel her anxiousness.

"So how is Jasper?" she asks me, looking up from her laptop.

"He's…busy," I tell her, putting aside my phone.

She nods slowly. I can see a thousand and one questions swimming around in her head, but in the end she simply looks back at her screen.

"Alice…" she looks back up at me. "We're almost there."

Her grin reminds me of her sister's – especially at that age – so wide and open.

"I know we are. Thanks, Edward…for looking out for all of us."

I offer her a small grin in return, but then my girls arrive – with Emmett in tow.

The next couple of hours are the type of ordinary that's so simple it's actually perfect, and when you look back on them…

Emmett sets down a large sewing machine that Bella has purchased at the craft store. Elizabeth pulls out all the materials she and her mom bought at the store - yards of cloth, beads, glitter, feathers, felt – and proceeds to inform me that her mum will be "sewing" her Halloween costume.

"Mum has always done it for us," Bella pipes in, "on her sewing machine and I mean, really, how hard can it be? I've watched her do it for ages."

An hour later, Bella is ready to pull her hair out. Elizabeth looks on from where she sits on my lap, elbows on the table and chin in her hands, eagerly waiting for all those materials to magically transform into _something_.

"Mum always made it look so easy," Bella murmurs, biting her lip thoughtfully as she holds up the material she's been sewing and turns it from side to side, as if somehow that'll make it resemble whatever it's supposed to be. She picks up her cell phone. "Let me call her again."

I'm chuckling as my own cell phone rings, and look down to see that it's Jasper.

"Yeah," I say, still laughing quietly.

"Edward, where are you?"

"I'm at Bella's." My voice drops, instantly on alert. "What's going on?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes." The line goes dead.

Ten minutes later, Jasper is in Bella's front room. He looks pale; his complexion only brightens for a few seconds when he catches sight of Alice. But as he walks closer to me, his expression tightens.

"I need to speak to you - alone."

Bella meets my gaze, frowning.

"Alice, why don't you meet Emmett downstairs so both of you can take Elizabeth down to the park for a little while?"

"But I want to finish making my Halloween costume, not go to the park with Aunty Alice and Emmett."

"I'll finish making your costume tomorrow, Darling."

"Why tomorrow? Why can't we finish it later?"

Bella kneels in front of our daughter. "Because I need to call Nanny for help and it'll be late in England later. Nanny will be sleeping," she tells her patiently. "Go on. Go play outside for a little while. The weather's getting cooler, and soon you'll be spending plenty of time indoors."

When they leave, Bella walks over to me and takes my hand in hers.

"Edward," Jasper murmurs, "I really think it's best if you and I spoke alone first."

Bella's grip suddenly feels hesitant, as if she's getting ready to pull away, but I hold on to her firmly.

"Jasper, whatever it is, you can tell me in front of Bella."

His eyes move nervously between Bella and me before he sighs, gripping his hair.

"Apparently, there are more…pictures…"

"More pictures of what?" Bella questions, but I already know, and my gut twists tight, as tight as she holds my hand.

"More pictures of you, Bella. Of you and of…Michael Newton…"

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I repeat, big girl panties.**

**Relax guys, we're almost done.**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	39. Chapter 39 - The Countdown

**A/N: Long live the future king!**

**Brit Bella has a new little prince! Can't wait to get more info on him. Hope they name him Edward. :)**

**Anyway, this is a long chapter, but it's largely dialogue so hopefully it'll flow quickly. It might not be a bad idea to pack a lunch before you start reading though. :)**

**Thanks so much for sticking with me through this story guys. We're almost at the finish line!**

**Betad by my girl, Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 39 - The Countdown**

**BPOV**

A rhythmic blend of steel drums and crooning vibrations ripple from the corner of the block, erupting from a black boom box which rests next to a group of men sitting around a fold-up table, playing cards and laughing.

With his hand on the small of my back, Emmett quickly guides me in the opposite direction, towards the small, indistinct restaurant in the middle of the block. His face is solemn and tight, still not entirely convinced of this operation, but somehow I've managed to get him to go along with it.

Inside the restaurant, one long, red counter and half a dozen black swivel stools cover one side, while a few small, metal tables with yellow plastic chairs cover the other. A television flipped to an afternoon talk show, hangs up high on a yellow wall. The opposite wall is completely painted in huge green and black triangles, crisscrossed by a yellow 'X.'

Right now, the restaurant is completely devoid of any patrons, of any people whatsoever other than Emmett and myself - and the tall, dark-skinned man walking to greet us.

"Emmett, my man, how you been, brother?"

Emmett and he exchange a firm and friendly handshake followed by manly claps on their backs.

"I'm good, I'm good. How 'bout you, Guy?"

"Can't complain. Business is pretty good. People are eatin', that's all I care about!" the man chuckles.

"That's good. That's good."

The man's dark eyes trail to me.

"Listen, Man," Emmett says, bringing his friend's attention back to him, "I want to thank you for doing this. I hate having to empty your place out, but I'll-"

The man laughs at him, but it's a warm, genuine laugh. "Don't worry about it, Bro. I can afford to shut this place down for an hour or so. Besides, you and I go way back."

Emmett claps his shoulder again. "Yeah, we do."

The man's eyes trail to me once more.

Emmett clears his throat. "This is my friend." He pauses, and for a couple of seconds I think both the man and I are expecting him to continue. When it becomes obvious that this is about as much of an introduction as we're going to get, the man and I exchange awkward smiles.

"So she's just going to hang out in here for a bit, and then my other friend is going to show up and you and I will…catch up outside."

The man stares at Emmett for another few seconds. "Alright," he finally grins, "sounds good to me."

Michael arrives about ten minutes after they've both stepped outside.

"_Try not to dress too conspicuously,"_ I'd told him on the phone last evening.

He's wearing blue sweats and a dark grey hoodie over his head. It's pulled down low and covers most of his face. I'm glad to see he listened, because like Edward, Michael tends to attract attention. But we're deep into Brooklyn, far from the midtown business district, or the federal offices of downtown Manhattan. With both of us dressed in dark, baggy clothing, I'm pretty sure we're unrecognizable.

Still, my heart pounds in my chest to the beat of the steel drums playing over the restaurant radio. For one moment, I question the wisdom of this plan, but not only am I here already, so is Michael. It's too late to turn back and I have to trust that I know the man walking towards me as well as I once thought I did.

I've chosen the very last table at the back for our meeting. He grins as he takes a seat across from me, and when he doesn't even attempt to give me a kiss in greeting, I'm both relieved and suspicious.

Michael's bright blue eyes scan the small restaurant around us. His mouth twitches wryly as he brings his hood down leaving his blond hair, usually impeccably combed back, carelessly chaotic about his head.

"Well, it's not the type of place you and I have dined at in the past, but I can see the appeal, and I have always loved me some jerk chicken."

I don't respond.

He smirks. "I've been meaning to call you, but…things have been extremely busy and besides…" – his eyes trail to the ring on my left hand and he smiles – "I hear congratulations are in order."

"There are pictures of us," I blurt.

He leans back against his chair casually, lacing his fingers together over the table. I can tell by his expression that he knows exactly to what pictures I'm referring.

"You don't seem surprised," I sneer.

"That's because I'm not."

My nostrils flare. Michael must notice the way my right hand begins to twitch, and he must realize that means he's about one point five seconds away from being slapped, because he sighs dramatically and continues.

"I was having a few drinks at a bar after work a couple of days ago, and had an odd encounter with someone who claimed that he had pictures of you and me in…compromising situations."

I shut my eyes tightly.

Michael continues. "I went on to inform this individual that you and I did have a relationship once, but that it was in the past. This person though, suggested that those pictures would soon see the light of day, and that some might believe that the reason why I promoted you so quickly was because we were sleeping together. He was helpful enough to point out that while that sort of claim wouldn't look good for you, it wouldn't do the company any favors either. He further suggested that if I made a public statement, saying that you made me believe that you were in love with me, that you _used_ me," he stresses, "that I was simply a man in _love_, well then perhaps I could come out looking better. Otherwise, they have more than one employee of mine prepared to claim that there's a culture of promotions for sexual favors in the enterprise," he finishes flippantly.

My throat is as dry as a desert. "And what did you say?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Do you really need to ask me that, Isabella?"

I watch him warily.

He huffs and leans in, hissing. "I told him to fuck off. I told him that you'd _earned_ every single promotion due to _corporate_ talent because of hard-work and dedication to the _enterprise_, not to me, and that whoever had sent him had no idea what the fuck they were doing if they were trying to touch you because Cullen would have their asses on a plate. Furthermore, I reminded him that I'm Michael Fucking Newton, CEO and owner of Newton Fucking Enterprises, and that this wasn't the first time some dipshit tried to blackmail me, and it probably wouldn't be the last, so he could kiss my ass and get in line."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask accusingly.

His face is impassive as he leans back into his seat. "I was going to."

"_When_?"

His expression hardens. "Isabella, I just returned from Sydney yesterday afternoon. I was in the air for almost twenty-four hours, so do me a favor and cut me some slack here."

"This happened in _Sydney_?" Jesus, how far will they go?

He nods. "Yes, and after a long fucking day of meetings. The following morning, I was on a plane, and now I'm here. I was taking a quick breather before calling you when you called, so please, stop looking at me that way. You and I may not have had a poetic romance worthy of _Camelot_," he sneers, "but I've never given you reason to distrust me."

I feel all air leave me in a rush, and inhale deeply, filling my lungs with clean, deep breaths while my stiff shoulders slacken.

"You're right, Michael. I…apologize."

He's silent.

"Did you…see the pictures?"

He hesitates for a second. "Only a couple, though I was informed that these were merely of the PG variety," he grins wryly, "and that they get progressively more…compromising."

"What…were they?" I can feel the heat in my face, but I have to know. Jasper was only informed that they're extremely compromising.

"Relax, Sweetheart, they weren't anything too bad. They were of the last time you and I met for dinner in London, the afternoon that I…confessed my feelings for you. There was some hand-holding…on both parts. I suppose I leaned in quite close to you a couple of times. It was all very innocent, but with the angle of the camera…well, you're a journalist, Isabella. You know how things can be twisted."

"Edward and I were already trying to make things work at that point."

"Yes, I know. I remember you told me that. Did you ever tell the Congressman of our meeting that afternoon?"

"Of course I did."

"Then you have nothing to worry about when it comes to him seeing those particular pictures."

"When it comes to _him_ seeing them, but if they hit the streets, I'll be called a cheating whore. And what of the rest of the pictures?" I chuckle bitterly.

He sighs once more, leaning forward in his seat, his expression much more solemn now. "I did ask to see them, told them I wanted proof that they existed in the first place, but the guy laughed at me and said that wasn't how they were playing this game. He said that the person holding on to them wasn't about to risk letting them out of his sight, or making copies because they're a very valuable commodity seeing as on one of the people in the pictures could foreseeably be First Lady of the United States one day. When I said they probably didn't exist in the first place, he warned me against making that assumption."

"But how could they have gotten those sort of pictures in the first place?"

"Isabella, you're in the business. You _know_ that there's plenty of ways for people like that to do these things. Open window shades, hidden cameras…I mean, you and I weren't carrying on all over the place, but we didn't exactly go out of our way to hide things, did we?"

I want to cry. I feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes, but I hold them back. Michael's hand suddenly snakes closer to where mine rest over the table, and I know he wants to comfort me, but that's not his job anymore. I withdraw my hands quickly and place them on my lap.

He sighs. "So did they approach you or the Congressman?"

I hold his gaze. Yes, I'm almost one hundred percent sure that Michael is being honest with me here, but part of me still hesitates. Edward has his own strategy, and I don't want to undermine it.

But then I realize that I wouldn't be telling him anything that they don't already know.

"Edward's Chief of Staff received an anonymous call. The pictures will supposedly be released within the next forty-eight hours if…"

"If what?"

"If Edward doesn't make a public statement absolving President Martin of any involvement in keeping our daughter a secret from him."

Michael nods slowly. "This entire "Babygate" situation is taking a toll on his re-election campaign. So either the Congressman puts out that statement acquitting the President of any and all wrongdoing, or they'll slander your image all over the country, making you out to be a user and gold-digger, who sleeps her way to the top and thereby ending the public's positive fascination with you, while at the same time detracting their attention from Martin's involvement in the entire scandal – all hopefully with sufficient time for Martin's numbers to climb back up before election day," he adds, as he steeples his fingers over the table. "What does the Congressman plan to do?"

"If they go through with this, Edward _will_ retaliate, and they know that."

"So the Congressman has something up his sleeve as well?"

I nod.

Michael's gaze shifts beyond me. "An interesting plan."

I recognize the lines of concentration on his forehead, as if he's come up with a new idea and is considering it thoroughly, all the pros and cons.

"If Martin knows that the Congressman has dirt on him, yet he's still threatening to do this to you, he must really be desperate. Edward should by all means retaliate and I may able to help with that, depending on what exactly Edward has in mind. After all, Isabella, if you were mine, I wouldn't allow Martin to get away with this." He finishes in a clear, succinct voice while his distracted gaze moves closer and closer, as if he's tracking the movement of an object over my shoulder.

"But she's _not_ yours, Michael."

The voice directly behind me is smooth and controlled on the surface - but over the past few months I've learned to detect the simmer of emotion underneath - and right now that emotion is clearly fury.

Edward's hands grip my shoulders, his fingers closing in tightly. My entire body goes rigid.

"She's _mine_," Edward continues in that same calm tone that manages to send shivers down my spine regardless, "and I _will_ protect her from everything and everyone that tries to hurt her."

I angle my head sideways to look up at him. There's no blank mask to accompany the impassivity of his tone. His expression is fierce and threatening. "Edward-"

His glares down at me with that fierce gaze, holding me locked in his eyes for a couple of seconds before pulling a chair from the neighboring table and setting himself down over it, between Michael and me.

"Please, why don't you join us, Congressman?" Michael grins dryly.

Edward sets his furious eyes on Michael once again, his mouth set in a tight line, every muscle in his jaw twitching. His entire frame brims with barely repressed outrage.

"Did you have anything to do with the existence of those pictures?" he asks through clenched teeth.

"Other than the fact that I seem to co-star in them, no," Michael responds.

I grimace at his choice of words, but Edward sneers, leaning in closer. "How do I know you're not lying?"

Michael leans in as well, bringing both their faces within mere inches of each other.

"Because we both know that I wouldn't do that to Isabella, and as much as it obviously eats at you, we both know why."

"Michael," I say in a cautionary tone, shaking my head at him.

But neither man looks my way. They're in a stand-off, and I might as well not even be here.

Michael is the first to pull away. He leans back again as if he hasn't a care in the world.

"Let me fill you in on what you've missed, Congressman. Forty-eight hours ago I was approached by apparently the same group that contacted your chief of staff and given an opportunity to tell the…sordid tale," he grins sarcastically, "of Isabella's and my relationship before it's leaked. Otherwise, I end up looking like a man who puts pleasure before business, and I think we all know the falsity of that."

"And you turned them down," Edward snarls.

"Of course I did."

"Of course you did," Edward smirks.

Michael glares at him. "I understand your animosity towards me at the moment, Congressman, because despite the fact that I'd like us to be able to continue our mutually beneficial political relationship, let's just say you're not my favorite politician in the world right now. But believe me when I say that I would _never_ hurt Isabella. Yes, she's yours now, but there was a time when she was almost _mine_."

"Michael," I warn, "this is not the time for this."

"I'm glad to hear that you would never hurt her, because I'm taking care of anyone who would ever threaten any harm to my family, and if I ever find out that you're one of those people, if I find out you did have something to do with this, mutually beneficial political relationship or not, I _will_ destroy you." Edward's smile is cold and dangerous and leaves no doubt that he fully means what he's saying.

"Then it's a good thing that my conscience is clear," Michael replies.

Edward reaches out and rests his hand over mine, settling back in his seat, and despite the fact that I know how upset he is, when he squeezes my hand, I can tell he's trying to comfort me as much as himself.

Michael's eyes flash to our joined hands for one split second before he glances away.

"So, you will retaliate?" he questions.

"If any of those pictures make the light of day, yes, I will."

Michael nods. "And as I said, I won't play their games, but I won't lie either."

"No one is asking you to lie, Michael." I add.

"Good, because I'm not ashamed of the relationship you and I once had, Isabella. You earned your rise to the top with your hard work, and no one has any right or reason to question that."

"Then that's exactly what you can say if anyone ever asks. In the meantime, I'm sure you understand why I don't think that now is the best time for you and my fiancée to meet in dark, little restaurants hidden from the rest of the world." Edward turns our hands over, lacing our fingers and guides me up. "Once this is over, I won't interfere in your friendship with Bella, because I've got to admit that you have been a good friend to her."

I place a soothing hand on his shoulder hoping to turn him around so that we can simply leave, but Edward isn't done.

"I'm appreciative of your friendship towards her as I appreciate anyone who's ever been a friend to Bella. I'm grateful for any support you may have ever lent her. I messed up once, very badly, and Bella spent many years struggling on her own." I can see the pain in his eyes as he says this, and I grip his arm tighter. "But let's get one thing clear, Newton. Isabella was _never_ almost yours. It was impossible because Bella has always been mine, and she will _always_ be mine."

They hold each other's gazes for a few tense moments in which I simply want to shrivel up and disappear. When Michael finally gives a slight nod, Edward turns around, his hand still wrapped around mine, and leads us out.

Outside, the music is still blasting from the black boom box at the corner. Edward helps me into the back seat of the waiting car, where Emmett sits at the wheel, and then slams the door behind me once I'm in, making me jump in my seat. Then he simply stands there, out on the curb for a few seconds, his chest rising and falling as he rakes one hand through his hair continuously.

Fuck.

"You sold me out," I hiss at Emmett.

At least he has the decency to look apologetic. "He called me, extremely worried about you, Bella. With everything that's going on, I had to tell him."

"Yeah, yeah." I only have time to roll my eyes at him before Edward finally steps inside the car.

There is absolutely no conversation on the way home, and though Edward holds my hand in the backseat the entire time, his eyes wander the landscape outside his window, never turning towards me.

When we arrive at my apartment, he paces the living room floor back and forth while I stand in front of him and wait for the impending explosion, building up my excuses in my head. But when he finally stops pounding the floor and faces me, every meager excuse dies away on my tongue because I was ready for his anger, for his indignation, for his accusations – but not for the hurt and confusion etched clearly on his face.

"I'm not upset that you met with him, Bella, I'm upset that you didn't tell me. You said we were a team. When Tanya came to the house, you said you wanted to be present and I included you, but now you shut me out of this, and I don't understand why."

"It was different, Edward," I say weakly, all my defenses from a few seconds ago completely annihilated by the expression on his face.

"How was it different?" he hisses. "Please tell me how it was different. You know _everything_ about me, Bella. _Everything_. I'll include you in anything because there's nothing I want to hide from you anymore, nothing I don't want you to know, so why can't you-"

"How was I supposed to discuss those pictures in front of you?" I ask him, my voice cracking. "How was I supposed to ask him what I needed to ask with you there…"

He looks bewildered. "Do you think I'm judging you because of some pictures that may or may not even exist?"

"Not judging me, Edward, but it's still…uncomfortable for me." I drop my eyes to the floor because I can't bear to see the wounded look in his eyes. "Look, perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should've told you. Yes, I should've, and I'm sorry. I just…"

I throw my hands up in surrender and sit heavily over the sofa, covering my face, my shame, with my hands.

After a few moments, I hear him kneeling before me. His warm breath fans against my hands, and his gentle palm strokes my leg back and forth; soothing.

"Don't pull away from me, Bella," he murmurs gently. "Don't let this divide us because that's exactly what Martin wants, to separate us now, so that the public will turn away from us and turn back to him."

Martin.

The pictures.

If he releases those pictures, if they strike, Edward _will_ strike back.

Then they'll strike again.

And where will it end?

I'm not ashamed of the pictures – not for myself, at least. I was a single woman at the time and I _know_ that regardless of the relationship that developed between Michael and me, I earned every single promotion with hard work _outside_ of the bedroom. My conscience is clear on that front. My friends, my family, they'll all stand by me; I'm sure of it.

But what will this do to _them_?

What will the scandal do to them? How will it affect not just Edward, Ellie and I, but also Jasper and Alice? When will they be able to come out in public and stop hiding their true feelings for each other? What will this do to my Mum and Rose, thousands of miles away? What will this do to Michael, to his reputation as the fair, talented businessman that he truly is?

What will these retaliations do to Emmett?

Or to Esme?

To my _daughter_? Jesus, what if Ellie ever sees those pictures?

It _will_ affect all of them.

And Edward.

I know he means it when he says that Ellie and I are his priorities, that he'd give up everything for us, but my God, how much is he required to give up? What will it do to him, being engaged to a woman whose most intimate moments are up on display for the world to see?

I look up at him hesitantly, and the encouraging smile he gives me breaks my heart.

"Are you sure that retaliating would be the right choice? What about your career, Edward?"

"What about my career, Bella?" he sighs impatiently before wrapping his hands around my face, cradling me so gently in that way he's always had that makes me feel like the most special object in the world to him. "Do you still think I'd choose my career over you? You think I'd let them spread filth about you? Use you as a scapegoat to distract the public from their lies? You're feeling bad about those pictures and how do you think that makes me feel, knowing that this is all my fault because you're simply getting caught in the middle of a political battle that I should've put a stop to years ago?"

"No, Edward. This isn't your fault, and it's not my fault either. I know that. They're doing this to us because neither of us conformed to their vision for our future. I know it's them. I just don't know how to stop it."

"If he comes for you, Bella, I'm going for him. It's as simple as that. He and my father may have started this, but this is where it ends, Bella." He drops his hands away and stands up, turning his back to me. "Maybe I should just have Jasper schedule a press conference now, be on the offense instead of defense and-"

"Edward, no!" I plead, getting to my feet. He turns around and I can see the fire and determination in his eyes. He's reaching his breaking point with this, I can tell. I need to calm him down.

I reach up, and now it's my hands cradling his face because yes, other than Ellie, he is the most precious thing in the world to me, and I don't want him to lose everything. Though I know having me and Ellie is enough for him, though I know it in my heart, in my mind I know he _deserves_ so much more. He's a good man. He cares about and takes care of so much; his family, his friends, his country.

"Edward, if nothing comes of this, then we'll have started a war for no reason. I think you're right. Martin is hoping that this much is enough to separate us because he knows that if he actually releases any pictures, you _will_ come after him. So he's hoping that we won't be able to handle this and implode on ourselves without him having to lift a finger. If _we_ crumple, then all _his_ faults die away on their own."

He holds my gaze, processing my theory.

"I want Martin to fall, Edward, because an administration like his, full of lies and deceit doesn't deserve to be in power, but I don't want him to take us with him."

He wraps me in his arms, holding me against his chest where I feel his heart beating, and it warms me, makes me feel safe and protected. In his arms, I've always felt safe.

"That's not going to happen, Bella. I won't allow it."

I raise my eyes to him again. "Let's just see what they do, alright?"

There's hesitation. He's tired of waiting, and I can't blame him. The past few weeks, since Tanya first delivered her father's threats, have been one long waiting game and Edward is ready to put an end to it.

But he sighs, "Alright, Bella," his lips pursed in indication that he's not completely satisfied with this decision.

I get on the tips of my toes and circle his neck with my arms, capturing his lips with mine and sucking on them gently. He responds immediately, groaning quietly as our tongues comfort one another, remind each other that we're together, and that's what matters in the end.

"You're everything that matters to me, Bella," he murmurs against my mouth, echoing my thoughts as if he can read my mind. "You and Elizabeth, you're my priorities. Always."

"Always," I repeat, as his warm hands run up and down my ribs. He pulls my sweater over my head and in a few minutes, has me shed of all clothes. When he takes me over the sofa, there's a streak of possessiveness to the way he grips my hips tight, to his quick and eager thrusts. His mouth is hard and demanding over mine and when he sinks himself in so deep and unyielding that I'm screaming out his name as I come, he murmurs thickly in my ear,

"Mine, Bella. Always mine."

"Yes," I hiss, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Always yours."

He comes undone as loudly as I just did.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next thirty-six hours are nerve-racking, playing a waiting game. Yet despite the warnings to Michael and Jasper, the forty-eight hour deadline comes and goes. There is no mention in any news outlet of pictures involving Michael and I. I start wondering if I was correct, if this was simply a test to see if Edward and I were strong enough to weather this. Martin was probably hoping that we'd fight and argue over it, but it's obvious that he never knew Edward. His love is unwavering; we're as close as ever.

Our daily routines continue.

I run my errands, take Ellie back and forth to school, to the park for soccer practice and games, to playdates. Edward and I share the responsibilities, but then he has to go back to D.C. for a three-day session. I'm nervous while he's away, but the three days pass without incident.

I watch the calendar every day for the approaching elections - and hate Martin more than ever.

On a Wednesday afternoon, halfway through October, Edward calls to tell me that he won't be able to meet me to pick Ellie up from school. He's in his office, on a conference call that's running later than he expected. I tell him that's fine, and he promises to meet us at my apartment as soon as he's done.

It's a cooler than normal day outside so instead of walking, Emmett and I take a short drive down to Ellie's school. He parks in front of the school and then we wait, because we're about ten minutes early.

"Are you still upset with me about the other day?" he asks.

I snort, keeping my eyes trained on the windshield before me. "No. I think I've accepted the fact that you're Edward's friend over mine, that you'll take his side over mine every time."

"That's not how it was," he smirks.

"I know," I chuckle. "I'm just taking the piss." But thinking of how loyal Emmett is to Edward makes me sigh. "I do miss having a close friend like that, someone who will always, always take my side."

"You do have a friend like that," he says, letting his own eyes linger out of the front windshield.

The conversation makes me think of Rose…and my mum, far away in England.

Rose calls every few days, but our conversations are awkward and stilted, mainly consisting of Ellie's exploits and adventures. We don't talk the way we used to, not about anything deep or meaningful. I miss that, but it's still hard to think of what she did...

"I have to call my mum…and Rose later. I gave them both a heads up of what might be coming along, just so that they're ready in case…but it's only three weeks to the election. I think I can put their minds at ease."

Emmett is thoughtful, eyes still gazing through the front windshield. My mind has already started to wander to something else when he speaks.

"Rose…Rose wanted me to tell you to keep your chin up, to remind you that you're a strong woman and that you've been through worse on your own. Now you've got Edward, and she says that she's confident that together, the three of you can get through anything."

I'm so shocked that I can do nothing but stare at him, my mouth agape, for a couple of minutes.

"You spoke to Rose?"

He still won't look at me. "We've…kept in touch these past few weeks, since we came back from England."

I'm completely dumbfounded and speechless. His Adams Apple bobs up and down nervously as I study him, and I can only imagine how difficult it's been for him to keep this to himself, not to share it with Edward because Edward is his best friend.

But Rose…and Edward…

Fuck, why does it all have to be so complicated?

I let out a long breath. Yes, it's definitely something we'll have to deal with, but not now. Right now, we must _all_ take it one day at a time. The elections are almost here and then we can all fucking breath again.

I reach out and put a hand over his, where he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly I can see his knuckles whitening.

"We'll figure it out, Emmett," I tell him softly.

He finally turns to look at me, giving me one of his impish grins.

"I know we will." His voice is strong and confident.

We both turn our gazes back to the windshield, lost in our own thoughts while yellow cabs zoom by angrily and people hurry back and forth more hastily than usual, trying to outrun the upcoming storm threatening with dark clouds and wind that blows newspapers and stray candy wrappers all about. The front of the school is abandoned; whereas sometimes we all gather to talk, the rest of the children's parents all appear to be waiting in the cars this afternoon.

But I'm in the mood for some cold air on my face, something to soothe me, and besides, it reminds me of Leigh.

I open the car door and turn back to Emmett. "I'm going to wait outside, okay?"

"Want me to come with you?"

"No, I just need some air."

"Alright."

I step out of the car and walk a few feet closer to the school, taking shelter under a gathering of trees and bushes just to the side of the entrance. Here, I close my eyes and raise my head to the sky, smiling because it is cold, but it feels good.

"Isabella."

The voice startles me not because I don't recognize it, but because I do. I open my eyes and a small gasp escapes me.

Carlisle stands a few feet away, and before I can say anything, Emmett materializes at my side and pulls me away.

"Bella, get in the car. Mr. Cullen, I'll remind you once that there's an order requiring you to stay within fifty feet of Ms. Swan. Please remove yourself from these premises, or I _will_ call the police."

My heart pounds in my chest as I let Emmett guide me towards the car.

"Just give me five minutes, Isabella." Carlisle calls out. "That's it. For your fiancée's sake, give me five minutes."

Emmett opens the door for me. Before I climb in, I look up at Carlisle once more.

He's dressed impeccably in a dark suit that fits him to a tee. But he looks much older than he did last time I saw him. His eyes, his face are as hard and unflinching as ever, yet there's an air of desperation to him that I've never seen before. It's this anxiety, and what it could possibly have to do with Edward, that makes me pause.

"Just five minutes, Isabella, and you and Edward will never have to deal with me again."

I remind myself that Edward and I don't owe this man anything, not even five minutes. I'm about to get into the car, but instead I close my eyes and curse myself.

"Bella, no," I hear Emmett say stiffly. "This time I won't even try not to tell Edward."

"Emmett, you owe me one. You'll be right here watching. If anything happens, you call the police." I say it loud enough for Carlisle to hear. "I'll just be three minutes."

"Bella-"

"Three minutes, Emmett."

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, banging the top of the car with the palm of his hands. He nods tersely.

I close my door and walk slowly to Carlisle, where he stands under the copse of trees I was just under. The wind blows the thinner branches on the bottom back and forth, making it hard to see under them, hiding us from view.

"You have three minutes," I say curtly.

"Then I'll dispel with the pleasantries," he replies in a bland tone, hands stuck in his pockets. "He's coming for you, for you and Edward."

My chest constricts. I don't need him to clarify of whom he speaks.

"How do you know?"

"Do you really need to ask me that, Isabella? Don't you know by now that I know _everything_?"

"Do those pictures really exist?"

"They might."

"If they do, you gave them to him."

"Since I've only got two and a half minutes left, I won't waste words. Martin hired Jenks through me. Jenks reported to me; I reported to Martin. But who's to say I wasn't skipped over at some point? Since Jenks and I have been taken out of the picture now by your fiancée," he smirks, "whatever Martin has, he's had for a long time."

"The entire time," I sneer. "The entire time, both of you knew everything."

"We did," he responds unapologetically. "But things didn't work out the way they were supposed to. Edward was supposed to pick his career over you, the way he did the first time around." His words send a spear of pain through me, but I remind myself that that's not the Edward I have now. "When he didn't, when he chose you and his…child and exposed me in public, Martin had to wash his hands."

"He let you take the fall."

"Of course he did," he shrugs matter-of-factly. "He's the POTUS, the leader of the free world. He wasn't about to let something like this take him down."

"And you let him do it. Why?" I question.

"For Edward."

"Not for Edward, for the glory of your _legacy,_" I spit out.

He doesn't even flinch at the poison in my tone. "Call it what you will. You're a parent, you should understand. I wanted my son to succeed where I'd failed. Isn't that what we all want as parents?"

"Not at the sacrifice of their happiness! Do you really think that's what your wife would've wanted?"

It's the first time his features show any emotion, and they run the gamut between hatred, anger, love, and somewhere deep down there, I think I see regret.

"Don't you mention my wife! You know _nothing_ about my wife!"

"I know she loved Edward with all her heart!" I respond, my entire body shaking. "I know it was her guiding words that stayed with him even after she'd gone, that it was those words that prevented him from becoming like you!"

He glares at me with open hatred.

"Edward and I had a child together, and you knew! You knew and never told him!"

"Neither did you. Yes, you made that one feeble attempt, but you could've tried again."

"I could've. And I'll live with that regret for the rest of my life. What regrets will you live with?" I ask, my voice breaking.

"More than you can ever imagine. But I'm not here to bare my soul to you, Isabella. I'm here to let you know that Martin is at the end of his rope. The numbers are too tight. He knows the risk and he's willing to take it because he knows it's the only chance he has left of winning."

"What do you care what he's going to say about me?"

"I don't care what he's going to say about you, only in relation to how it affects my son and the fact that it won't end there. He'll release those pictures, Edward will release his of Tanya and the COS, but that won't be the end of it."

It's exactly what I feared.

"Irina is prepared to announce that she was pregnant with Edward's child, and that he forced her to have an abortion."

I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach, as if the floor is being pulled away from under my feet. For two seconds, the entire world tilts at a furious angle.

"Relax," he says coldly, "it's not true. But the rumor will be out there, and that's the thing with rumors, Isabella. Once they're out there, you can't completely take them back. Even if she says she was wrong, or that she miscarried, that someone else was the father, it's still a taint on his reputation. Then, they start talking about how he's obviously not a careful man. I mean, if he could get Irina accidentally pregnant, and you accidentally pregnant…"

"What do you want, Carlisle?" I seethe.

"Edward can't win this battle, Isabella, not without serious damage to himself. He'll destroy Martin, but Martin will take him down with him. He'll take you both down."

"Martin can do whatever he wants! Edward and I will fight him together! We'll _be_ together, regardless of everything you both ever tried," I cry, "and _that's_ what matters!"

He snorts. "A beautiful sentiment, but not very realistic, Isabella, which surprises me. Between my son and you, I've always believed you to be the realist. What would you have of Edward? Do you want to take absolutely everything from him? Will you let him destroy himself to save you?"

No, I don't want Edward to lose everything now, but the alternative is unbearable both to him and to me.

"And what would you have of him, Carlisle?" I question, my voice trembling from the resentment coursing through me. "Do you want to see him cower to Martin's will for the rest of his life?" I hiss. "To watch him compromise his beliefs, his morals, his heart just to keep a deceitful administration happy?"

"Not to keep Martin happy, to save himself! To save his future! His legacy!"

"That is _not_ his legacy," I growl lowly. "That's not the man Edward is anymore! He has a family now, a family who loves him as much as he loves us. We'll back him. We'll be there for him if he does falter. If he makes mistakes, we'll still support him. He's not backing down, Carlisle," I say with conviction. "Edward is going to bring this entire sodding administration to an end!"

He glares at me.

"Mummy, Mummy, we decorated pumpkins today! Wait until I show Daddy! Oh no!"

Ellie gasps and I whip around, terrified because I've lost track of time and Ellie is out.

But her pumpkin has fallen from her hands and rolls, and before I can catch her she runs to it – right in front of Carlisle.

She comes to a halt less than a foot away from him, from her grandfather, who bends down to retrieve the colorful pumpkin that's rolled right to his feet.

"Ellie, Darling-" I reach for her, my heart in my throat, but she's already reaching out for the pumpkin he's holding out to her.

"Is it crushed?" she asks him innocently while the pumpkin exchanges hands.

"I don't think so. It seems to be in perfect shape."

"Ellie-" I want to order her to come to me, to run and scoop her up and sprint away, but I don't want to frighten her.

Emmett is suddenly at my side once again, eyes wide.

"Hey, kiddo. What'cha got there?"

He's trying to get her attention, but Ellie keeps talking to Carlisle.

"I made this in school today. One half is decorated pink and purple for my mummy, because those are her favorite colors, and the other half is blue and green for my daddy, because-"

"Because those are his favorite colors, yes," Carlisle finishes. He studies the pumpkin Ellie holds, his hands now clasped behind his back. "You color very well."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I reach out and grab her hand. "Let's go home, Ellie. It looks about to rain." Quickly, I escort her to the car at the curb.

"It was good to meet you…_Elizabeth_," Carlisle calls out behind us.

Ellie turns around, but I don't allow her to stop.

"You too, Mister!" she replies.

Emmett rushes back into the car while I'm buckling Ellie in. Tires screech as we speed away, and I wrap myself around Ellie, trying to regulate the wild pounding in my chest.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Another Q&A session:**

**Q: Whatever happened to Jake in this story:  
****A: A couple of readers wanted to know whatever happened to Jake in this story. Jake and Bella broke up, he moved on, opened up a bigger and better pub, but as the rest of his life has no bearing on this story, we won't read about that. :) (Same goes for Leah).****  
**

**Q: So what's the big deal with there being pics of Michael and Bella? She was single, after all.  
****A: As you may have inferred from this chapter, the problem with the pics stems from the fact that Michael was her boss, because other than that, yes she was single at the time and had a right to screw whoever she wanted. (The other problem is just the pure embarrassment of having something like that on display, unless you're Kim Kardashian in which case it's your claim to fame). :)****  
**

**Q: What nationality is Michael?  
A: Michael is American, not British as some may have thought.**

**Q: Now that Edward isn't running for Senate, is he still running for his current Congressional seat?  
****A: That's a great question. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how that works, which just goes to prove I haven't done my research as well as I should've for this. :) ****Let's put it this way: Edward does still plan to be a Congressman, so we'll say that yes, he is running for his Congressional seat, but as he is the incumbent and so popular, he hasn't been campaigning for it as much as he was campaigning for Senate. Hope this makes sense.****  
**

**If I missed any questions, please ask again! I may have missed it, or forgotten it, and I apologize.**

**And finally, I'm sorry if I haven't had a chance to get back to your reviews, but please know that I read and appreciate every single one. If I've missed any questions here, just PM me. I do mean to get back to every question I receive, but I have a horrible memory!**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	40. Chapter 40 - Father of Mine

**A/N: Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed or pm'd me last week, or who showed up at my facebook page to clear up my confusion on how the whole Congressman-running-for-Senate-and-then-backs-out- of-the-race thing works. It definitely helped, and will help me with a few fine details needed for the end of this story. So thanks so much!**

**And without further ado:**

**Betad by Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Chapter 40 – Father of Mine**

* * *

About an hour after the confrontation that took place with Carlisle in front of Ellie's school, Jasper, Edward and I are gathered in Edward's office. Esme is back at my townhouse watching Ellie for us.

"The question is, how much of that information can we actually trust?"

Edward's expression is as hard as stone as he looks at Jasper, eyes dark and burning. He obviously heard the question, but I get the feeling his mind is still imagining the scene back at the school. We're seated on his black, leather sofa, and his leg bounces up and down furiously from the effort I know it's taking him to stay in place.

"I should've kept heading to the school and called the cops," he growls, ignoring Jasper's question.

"He would've been gone already, Edward. Besides, there was no harm done; Ellie didn't even know who he was."

He shakes his head, lips pressed together tightly. "He's a poisonous snake," he hisses, "and if he would've said one wrong thing to Elizabeth…"

I reach out and wrap my hand around his. "He didn't. Ellie is fine."

He angles his head sideways to meet my gaze.

"And you?"

I draw in a deep breath. "I'm fine too."

His eyes search mine for one long moment, his own eyes rimmed with frustration. And then abruptly he reaches out and slides his hand around the nape of my neck, pulling me in and pressing a rough kiss onto my forehead. With one more long drag of air into his lungs, he turns his attention back to Jasper.

"No, I don't trust a word that comes out of my father's mouth…but…if they approached Newton, then it stands to reason that they'd approach Irina, and while Newton won't betray Bella, I can definitely see Irina making that sort of statement about me," he sneers. "Besides, from the reaction you said you received from her publicist, I have no doubt that at least that much is true."

"Edward, I know your father can't be trusted," I say, "but I feel that this time, he was telling the truth."

He stares at me. "What makes you think that?"

"There was just a look about him," I shrug, "as if he saw no point in trying to lie any longer."

He doesn't respond, and when he continues staring, it's almost as if he's looking through me, to somewhere a thousand miles away.

Jasper clears his throat. "Either way, I've warned Irina's publicist that if any negative comments about you or Bella emerge from her camp, we'll sue for defamation through slander, libel and anything else we come up with. She sounded surprised that we knew. It should at least slow them down a bit and give us time to come up with a strategy for dealing with this."

"There's already a strategy in place," Edward says clearly, and with that, he gets to his feet. The slightly glazed look from a few seconds ago is completely gone and in its place is an expression of complete determination.

"Get Jessica on the line and make sure that she's ready to drop everything to work on this. I've got most of the statement prepared and want it out in the next forty-eight hours."

Jasper nods and stands as well. "You got it, Edward."

Once he steps out, I walk slowly to the window. The fall sun is starting to set behind the silver skyscrapers of Manhattan, bathing them in an orange glow that bounces off of their tall, tinted windows. I stare at the shadows surrounding each building, one by one, while inside there's nothing but silence surrounding us.

Edward stands silently behind me and folds his arms around my waist, pulling me fully against him. I lean into his strong chest while his hands slide under my shirt, fingers smoothing up and down my ribs, firm yet tender. When he drops his head to my shoulder, I feel his warm breath on my neck, prickling the fine hairs there. I turn my head towards his.

"I suppose we're really doing this," I murmur.

His fingers press deeper into my skin, soothing and demanding at the same time, making me wish that I could turn around and remove his dress shirt and tie and trousers, every item between us and simply crawl against his hard, firm body until all of this was over.

"We have no choice," he whispers, his nose skimming my cheek, up and down. "Whether or not my father approaching you was something he did on his own, or whether he's still working with Martin doesn't make a difference. I can't let it happen again. This has to stop, and it has to stop now." He holds me tighter. "I still can't believe that Emmett-"

I cut him off. "You can't be upset with Emmett. He warned your father to leave and tried to get me to get into the car. There was nothing else he could've done short of physically picking me up."

"Maybe he should've," he says sharply, his arms folded around me stiffly now. When he continues, his tone is adamant and inflexible. "Regardless, I'm going to speak to Emmett about increasing security for you and Elizabeth."

I pull away from him and turn around, looking up into an unyielding gaze.

"Even more than you already have? Do you really think I haven't noticed, Edward?"

"Obviously, it hasn't been enough if you're disappearing into Brooklyn," he scowls, "meeting with my father…"

"I _will_ be more careful, I promise you that. But you have to know that I would never put myself in a position that I thought was dangerous to either myself or our daughter."

He fixes me with an even glare. "What do you call stopping to speak to my father, Bella?"

There's anger burning in his eyes, yes, but I can also see the hurt in them, and it's that more than anything that stops me from lashing back at him. It reminds me that when Edward lost his mother as a child, he also lost his father, because though Carlisle may have been there physically, his humanity was all but gone.

I think back to a little over an hour ago, when Ellie ran out of school and right into her grandfather, the only grandfather she has left. My own father died over a decade ago, but had he lived, I know Ellie would've been his pride and joy. It guts _me_ that she means nothing to her remaining grandfather; I can only imagine what it does to Edward.

That's why I concede.

"I'm sorry. It was stupid, I see that now." I wrap my arms around his tense shoulders, lacing my hands behind the nape of his neck and sliding my hands through his soft hair. "But we're okay," I smile carefully, "and at least we now know exactly what Martin is planning, because despite everything, I do believe your father was speaking the truth, Edward."

For a few seconds, he searches my eyes and then abruptly envelops me in his arms again, so completely it's as if he's trying to meld me to him.

"I'm sorry if I'm suffocating you lately; I just don't know what I'd ever do without you or Elizabeth."

I look up and see the truth shining in his eyes, in every part of his expression. We spent seven years apart, and neither of us is willing to deal with another separation.

Getting on my tip toes, I place a soft kiss on his warm mouth.

"You'll never have to find out." I invoke as much certainty into those words as possible.

His features soften, and he grins against my lips before tugging on them gently, his entire frame leaning into my touch. We comfort and calm each other with gentle strokes and kisses for an immeasurable moment and when his mobile rings, somehow I know. This moment was exactly that - the final calm.

Without releasing me, Edward pulls the mobile out of his pocket, lifting it up high to his field of vision.

He stiffens immediately, eyes narrowing.

"Yes," he says in greeting. For a few tense seconds, he simply listens to the person on the other line before walking to his desk and picking up the television remote. With dread coiling my insides, I turn towards the screen.

"…_by an undisclosed source to TMZ this afternoon. They appear to be of Isabella Swan, Congressman Edward Cullen's fiancée and mother to his six-year old daughter, Elizabeth Cullen, and of Michael Newton, CEO and owner of Newton Enterprises. The pictures seem to show them in the middle of an undisputedly intimate dinner in a London restaurant this past summer. TMZ's source reportedly claims that the dinner took place just days after the Congressman's now famous press conference in which he disclosed the truth of his daughter to the world, as well as his undying love for her mother. Based on these pictures," _someone off-screen snickers, _"the feeling didn't appear to be mutual at the time."_

"_Yes, and that's not the only issue with these pictures,"_ another voice exclaims while picture after picture of Michael and I at that restaurant flash across the screen, one after another. _"Up until a couple of months ago, Isabella, at the young age of twenty-six, was already one of the highest ranking employees at Newton Enterprises, which necessarily brings up the question of how exactly she managed to rise so quickly in the corporation."_

The other voice takes over.

"_Especially since before joining Newton Enterprises, Isabella's only post-graduate job was with a small newsletter based out of her hometown of Leigh-on-Sea, England."_

The pictures finally come to a stop, at a shot of my hand wrapped around Michael's over the dinner table. From the angle of the shot, he seems to be leaning in so close that our faces are only a couple of inches apart while his eyes focus hungrily on the movement of my lips.

I close my eyes and swallow, feeling Edward's furious presence behind me.

"_Ooh…"_ Someone sucks in a sharp breath. _"Now that definitely makes you wonder how she earned all those promotions."_

"_I wonder if the Congressman was aware of this very cozy dinner."_

"_Well if he wasn't then, he is now."_

More laughter.

"_So much for Camelot."_

When I finally manage to reopen my eyes, I can do nothing but stare wide-eyed at the screen once more, like a deer trapped in bright, unforgiving headlights. My palms are abruptly sweaty; my heart races in my chest. I'm suddenly freezing cold, as all the blood in my system pools down to my feet.

After that, everything happens quickly. Jasper rushes back in, and it's clear from his pale appearance that he's heard or seen what's happened.

"I don't care what you have to do," Edward says in an eerily calm voice, "or what favors you have to promise or call in, by the time this is all over, I want a list of everyone who was involved in that."

Jasper nods. "You got it."

"Tell Jessica to book air time for first thing in the morning."

"Yes, Edward."

"And get everyone in here in the next half hour, including Emmett and Alice. Make sure that Emmett has a full detail around Bella's townhouse. I don't want anyone getting near Elizabeth or your mom."

"On it." Jasper rushes back out.

I stand there still, chest heaving up and down.

Meanwhile, Edward is still on his call. "Alright, we'll be waiting for you," he says in a cool, clipped tone before ending the call.

His eyes meet mine, composed and unreadable. This is the same Edward I saw in Tanya's office a few weeks ago, the Edward that exists beyond the one I've come to love and trust with my heart.

"That was Michael. He's on his way over here."

I'm unable to make any sort of response or movement, yet I do know exactly what's happening all around me.

It's beginning. The question is: where will it end?

All of a sudden, Edward's mask falls away and I see _him_ again, my Edward. He's still there, and knowing that makes all this bearable. He reaches out and grasps my hand so tightly inside his that it's almost painful.

"We're a team, right?"

He's giving me reassurance by letting me see the real him, yet I know he needs my assurance too. No, I have no idea where this will end, but what I told Carlisle a couple of hours ago was entirely true: wherever this does end, Edward, Ellie and I will be there together.

When I reach up and stroke his face, Edward draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"Always, Edward. Always."

OOOOOOOOOO

There's a frenzy of calls going on all about me. Jasper walks in and out of the office, taking direction and keeping Edward informed, while Edward paces up and down the office on his phone, with one congressman after another, giving them courtesy warnings that the shit is about to hit the fan. The telly stays on but with the volume down, and every few minutes, both Edward's eyes and mine scan the screen to see if there's anything new, but all we see is a repeat of the same pictures.

I call Esme and ask her to please keep Ellie home and away from the telly, my heart sinking at the prospect of having to go through this again, except that this time it's so much worse and I know that despite all my efforts, I'm not going to be able to keep it all from her. If they're desperate enough to release these pictures, I don't doubt for a second that they'll release the rest if they exist. And then Edward will drop his bomb, and they'll still come back for him – for us.

Esme tells me not to worry about Ellie, that they're doing homework and that she'll keep her entertained afterwards, teaching Oyster tricks. I call my mum next.

"Oh, Bella, Darling," my mum sighs, "men like President Martin are like cheeky little boys that throw a tantrum when their turn at the playground is over. You have to pry their hands off the monkey bars at that point, don't you? Believe me, I've had dozens of the sort in my classes, and sometimes I've had to enlist help in physically extracting them," she chuckles. "Do you and Edward have help?"

I look up at Edward, who's in deep conversation with the senior congressman from New Jersey. I watch as he closes his eyes, breathing out through narrowed lips.

"Thank you, Sir," he says, relief evident in the slackening of his shoulders. "I appreciate your support. I've spoken to Representative Holder from Massachusetts, as well as to…"

I turn back to my own call. "Yes, Mum. I think we do."

"Then you'll be fine. You have your family, you have friends, and most importantly, you have each other. Don't fret too much about those pictures Bella, or anything else they may be threatening. It's like President Martin throwing bark in your faces while you're all trying to get him out of that playground; he's distracting and a bit annoying, but in the end, he still has to leave," she snorts. "It may be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I'm sure that soon everyone will recognize this for what it is: a last ditch effort by a desperate administration, especially when everyone sees the fierce loyalty between Edward and you."

"Mum, you've always had a way…"

My throat tightens, preventing me from finishing my thought, but I'm sure she knows what I mean. She always does.

Her ensuing laughter is my confirmation.

The door opens once again and Jasper leads in Alice, Emmett and Jessica Stanley, Edward's new press secretary.

"Bloody ell, there's a swarm of reporters outside," Alice says, looking a bit shaken. "It's worse than a few months ago back in England! I don't think that you or Edward should leave this office anytime soon."

"I have to go home to Ellie," I remind her.

Alice draws in a shaky breath and nods. She looks bewildered.

"Here, speak to Mum," I say, handing her the phone so that she can get some encouragement from our mother the way I just have. Alice sits on the sofa next to me, and Emmett and Jasper take seats on the chairs in front of Edward's desk, pulling out their chairs, as well as one for Jessica so that we're all sitting in an arc around the desk.

"Thank you, Emmett," Jessica says, her tone all business. I've only met her a handful of times, but I really like Edward's new press secretary. She's quiet without being mousy, always focused on her job and not afraid to speak her mind. She doesn't kiss Edward's ass - the way Kate used to - but she's ever-respectful, something both Edward and I appreciate. Oh, she's been vetted quite thoroughly; after the hell Edward has been through with the people surrounding him, he was very careful in whom he hired as his press secretary this time around.

And so while we wait for Edward to finish his call, his eyes once more flash to the TV screen. I can tell by the way his already anxious jaw sets tighter and his nostrils flare that he's seeing something new. When he picks up the remote resting on his desk to turn up the volume, I turn to the screen.

It's Michael.

He appears to be leaving his midtown office and is being accosted by a slew of reporters. Cameras flash wildly in his face while he looks straight ahead without so much as blinking.

"_Is it true that you and Isabella Swan shared an intimate relationship at one point, and if so, does it still continue?"_

"_Michael, are you currently in a relationship with Isabella Swan?"_

"_Michael, is your intimate relationship with Isabella Swan the reason why she rose so quickly in the ranks in your corporation?"_

"Isabella rose quickly in the ranks because she's one smart woman and that, combined with her talent and work ethic, have helped her achieve the success she deserves. I won't defend what her work record already shows. ERA Magazine is once again at the forefront of publishing thanks to her." His eyes don't waver from his straight path.

"_But is it true that you and she had a relationship outside of the boardroom and does that relationship still continue?"_

"_Is the congressman aware of the relationship between you and Ms. Swan?"_

Michael ignores these questions and calmly gets into the back seat of the waiting car, adjusting the buttons on his three piece suit as he sits. When his driver closes the door behind him, you can see the reporters scrambling over each other to press their cameras to the stained glass window.

"Fuuck," I hear Emmett groan quietly.

I look at Edward. His face is an unreadable mask. With a quick rake through his hair, he moves to stand in front of his desk. Yet when his eyes find mine, I know what he needs. Rising from my seat, I take a stand next to him, my hand reaching out for his as soon as I approach.

"Alright," Edward says, "Bella and I have called this meeting because what's happening now, and what will happen in the near future, will affect all of you in one way or another. Since the beginning, President Martin's administration has been built on lies and deceit, and the public is finally starting to see that. Unfortunately, he refuses to accept the fact that his era is coming to an end and has chosen to slander an innocent woman in a desperate attempt to hold on to what's slipping away from him. We won't let that happen."

He stops to meet everyone's gaze firmly, resolutely, and that's why Edward is such a great speaker, because he knows how to draw everyone in, how to make them _want_ to be there for him. He squeezes my hand tightly within his. I stroke the back of it.

The door opens and Michael strides in, looking around at everyone gathered in the room. "I apologize for my lateness, but I had to take a bit of a…roundabout route to get here," he smirks.

"Thanks for joining us, Michael," Edward says. Despite everything, I hear the sincerity in his tone.

Michael nods in Edward's direction, while I offer him a faint smile. Once Michael pulls up a chair, Edward continues.

"I've scheduled a press conference for nine a.m. tomorrow, in which I plan to be completely candid about the President's involvement in keeping Bella and I separated - not in respect to how it affected us, but in respect to how he used his elected office to obtain information that was not for him to obtain. I will further disclose how he used his influence to keep me in the dark about my daughter." He pauses. "Depending on Martin's actions in the next few hours, I may also be forced to communicate information that will take this conflict to a completely different level. It _will_ destroy the President's chances for re-election, and he in turn will most definitely bombard our camp with lies and false accusations. I've called you all here because we have to be ready as a family, and as a cohesive group."

"We'll be ready, Edward," Emmett assures him. "I've got security ramped up for everyone."

"I've got all the Congressmen and Senators who are willing to back us on alert," Jasper adds.

"I'm almost done with the draft you provided," Jessica contributes.

"I want to thank you all," Edward says, "but I need more than that from all of you. The Martin Administration will most likely launch a smear campaign in an attempt to discredit what we're trying to accomplish here. In that vein, I want to make sure that none of us have anything to hide. I don't want any more secrets."

Edward looks at Jasper, and then at Alice.

"If you both think that what you have is something worth fighting for, something worth standing up for, than neither Bella nor I will get in the way any longer."

"Edward-" I say quickly.

He angles himself sideways to face me and takes both my hands in his. "Bella, when it was you and I, we had no one on our side. They have us, Bella. They have _us_."

He holds my gaze, and though it frightens me, I understand what he's saying, and he's right. It's time we stop hiding from Martin. We have nothing to be ashamed of, and neither do Alice and Jasper.

I nod slowly. Edward grins at me and then faces forward once more.

"Michael, I appreciate the statement you gave the press, and I'd like to ask you to continue with short, succinct statements to that effect. If anything…further gets released, we'll deal with those items as they come, but for now, Jessica will be launching a public relations campaign for us to counteract any negative publicity arising from the Martin attack…and with that, I'd like to hand it over to her for a few minutes."

"Thank you, Congressman." Jessica looks around the room. "I'm in the process of establishing a vigorous PR assault to counteract any negative results from any attempts to discredit the relationship between the Congressman and Ms. Swan. Most of this PR plan will really just consist of what the Congressman and Ms. Swan are already doing, which is simply leading their lives together with their daughter and the rest of you. The public sees how happy they are together, and as long as they continue to rely on each other throughout any political mess that develops, any slanderous statements made against them will not have a lasting effect. In addition," she looks at Michael, "I agree with the Congressman that you, Mr. Newton, should ignore any questions related to your relationship with Ms. Swan and let the press know that Ms. Swan's corporate record speaks for itself."

"Alright," Michael says slowly. "Congressman, I respect what you're saying here, and I don't want to undermine you, but I have an idea as well."

I can feel Edward's momentary hesitation. Nevertheless, he doesn't let it show. "Go ahead, Michael."

"Well, if you're willing to go this far, why don't you just go all out?"

My brows furrow closer together. "What do you mean, Michael?"

He looks at me plainly. "Write an article, Isabella, for ERA magazine, of course, detailing everything that's happened…from the moment you met Edward…to the present…to right here in this room."

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" I scoff, "because neither Edward nor I are the people we were then, yet what if the public doesn't see that? What if I can't show them that? We'll be worse off than we are now. Besides, it's not my place…I have no _right_," I stress emphatically, "to tell that story."

"If not you, then who, Bella?" Edward asks. I reel around, startled by his question. "If you don't have the right to tell our story, then who does?"

"What?"

"He's right, Isabella. This is your story to tell. You can show it to them; show them the truth," Michael urges. "If anyone can put it all into words, it's you."

"Exactly, Bella. You can do it." Edward's voice is soft and smooth, full of so much encouragement and damn trust it almost hurts. When I look up at him, he grins down at me. "We made mistakes, but the difference between us and Martin is that we're not afraid to own up to them." His thumb caresses the back of my hand soothingly. "Besides, we're here together; we must've done something right."

I offer him a tentative smile, but my heart is full of a love and respect so powerful for the man before me, I feel as if I may burst from the force of it.

The tenderness in his expression disappears and he looks down at me resolutely. "Write it."

"But what if the public sees it as biased?"

"Not if you tell the entire story," Michael says. "They trust you, Isabella, in a way they no longer trust Martin."

"Just tell the truth, Love," Edward adds. "Don't worry about the Cullen name or the Cullen Legacy. You and I both know where my true legacy lies. You have my blessing, if that's what you need, and I'm sure as hell that you have Esme's and…if she were still here, you'd have my mom's."

Tears sting the corners of my eyes from the total and complete faith that Edward has placed in me. For a few long seconds, we simply gaze at each other, communicating without words how deep our commitment goes.

Michael clears his throat.

He's smirking when I look at him. "If sales of ERA Magazine went wild after your last piece, there's no word for what they'll be now."

"Thank you, Michael," I tell him sincerely.

"Hey, I'm a businessman above all, right?"

He holds my gaze. In that moment I can't help hoping that he finds someone who deserves him, someone whose love can bring out the real Michael Newton, as my love has done for Edward.

"Well," Jessica smiles, an action which is a bit surprising because though she's not unfriendly, she's not prone to much smiling or laughter, "with all the positive publicity you're both sure to garner from my PR campaign, and now with Isabella's article, we may be able to overcome this yet. Mr. Newton, perhaps you and I should meet later on to work on some of the finer points of this set-up." She types away furiously on her laptop as she speaks.

"Absolutely," Michael agrees.

"And we've been able to get a few congressman on our side as well, haven't we, Edward?" Jasper adds.

"Yes, we have. Men and women who have had enough of Martin's shady dealings, and who don't agree with his misplaced policies. If I'm forced to release everything I know, they've promised to back us."

"None of this stops it, though," I say.

"What do you mean?" Edward asks.

"Your father was right about one thing, Edward. Martin hits us, we hit back. Then what? He retaliates, we retaliate. But where does it end?"

He sighs, and his expression hardens. I don't want to make him question his choices, his path, but this is so difficult, knowing that those we love the most may be caught in the crossfire of what we started seven years ago.

That our daughter may be caught in that crossfire.

Edward bangs the desk with his palm. "I hate this! All this planning and strategizing and our plans are still not enough. We may win the war, but…Bella…" - he looks away from me – "perhaps you and Elizabeth should go back to England for a short while, just until everything blows over."

The sharp pain that pierces my chest leaves me reeling. It's a good thing that I'm leaning against Edward's desk because I feel as if I'm walking over a tightrope. No matter what, I fall. We both fall.

But I'd rather we fall together than apart.

He's turned away from me, but I force myself into his field of vision.

"We're a team, Edward," I remind him through a steady voice that belies the terror I feel right now. "I was wrong when I didn't include you before, both times, but I won't leave your side now. We face this together; the three of us, _all_ of us, as a family."

"She's right, Congressman," Jessica confirms. "If she leaves, the public may interpret it as a rift between the both of you. You can't afford that now."

"I don't give a damn how the public construes it," Edward glowers, his eyes still on me. "I simply don't want my family to get hurt."

I grab his face between my hands, not giving a damn that we have an audience.

"Listen to me, Edward Cullen. The only thing that can hurt Ellie and me is being without you again. Anything else we can survive, as long as you're with us."

He studies me long and carefully, and when he nods, I release the breath I'd been holding.

"You're right, Bella. You're right."

"I know I am," I smile at him.

"Alright, well, I suppose I'll be going." Michael gets to his feet and Edward walks over to him, offering him his hand. Michael meets it with a firm shake.

"Thanks for your help, Michael," Edward says earnestly. "Your offer was a great idea and…above and beyond."

"Anything to increase the bottom line, right?"

Edward doesn't respond.

Michael turns to me. "Isabella, start working on that piece, and…" his eyes flash to Edward once more, "we'll all be in touch."

"Thank you, Michael," I smile softly.

He doesn't reach out to shake my hand; instead, with one long look he turns and walks out of the office.

OOOOOOOOOO

Edward's office is housed in a building with underground private parking, so our escape works out smoother than does our arrival back to my townhouse.

When we walk in, Ellie is unaware of what's about to erupt all around us, but I know it can't stay that way. It's no longer the summer, and we're not thousands of miles away in England. She has school tomorrow, and the impending explosion is right here – in what is now our own back yard.

And so after dinner, Edward and I sit with her at our kitchen table.

"Elizabeth," Edward begins, "your mom and I would like to talk to you about some things you might be hearing in school or around the park in the next few days."

She watches her father intently.

"Yes, Darling," I add. "You see, Ellie, a couple of years back…" I begin…

…and have no idea how to continue, how to explain this mess to a six-year old little girl.

Edward and I are both wordless, it seems. Ellie starts fidgeting, stretching out her neck to look for Oyster. When Jasper suddenly calls Edward from the family room, Ellie jumps out of her chair and kneels on the floor to play with her puppy.

Esme walks into the kitchen. "Bella, Edward, Jasper needs you." There's a barely disguised edge of panic in her voice, and her eyes communicate the urgency her words can't in front of her great-niece. "I'll help Ellie get ready for bed."

Edward and I rush into the front room, where Jasper and Alice stand close together, hand in hand in front of the television.

Jasper is on his phone. "See if you can move it up!" he hisses into his mobile.

"Bella…" Alice shakes her head, her bottom lip quivering, "how can he do this to his own son?"

I turn my eyes to the screen, where Edward's eyes have already trailed.

Carlisle sits at an empty desk, wearing the same suit he wore earlier today when he showed up at Ellie's school. In the background, an American flag rests to one side of him, and a picture of Elizabeth Masen and their son sits on a desk on the opposite side. Other than that, he is surrounded by no one.

"Jasper get me air time immediately," Edward growls carefully and lowly. He's already dialing numbers on his own mobile.

"That's what I'm trying to do!" Jasper responds.

I move closer to the television, because I can't hear over their voices.

"…_have nothing left to lose, it's time to set things straight, or as straight as they can be set at this point. Yes, I've done things that may seem reprehensible, even unconscionable to some…but..."_

"It doesn't need editing. I'll give the speech the way it is now," Edward hisses into his phone.

"Shh," I say, putting a finger up to my mouth, but no one seems to hear me.

"…_wife, Elizabeth Masen Cullen, once told me that greatness isn't a state of being, but rather a state of feeling. 'You're as great as you feel,' she said." _He snorts_. "When she passed away…no, I didn't have what it takes to be a great man, not emotionally and certainly not publicly. I let others guide me in their greatness, and I allowed them to attempt to guide my son in that same shadow of supposed greatness."_

Carlisle pauses on the screen. At my side, Edward freezes, the phone still held to his ear. He moves closer to me, glaring intently at the TV.

"_Seven years ago, my son, Edward, met a young girl and fell in love with her. Now that part most of you already know. But there's more. You see, Aro Martin, who was merely Senator at the time, and I had other plans for Edward, plans that would assure Senator Martin continued political influence in the White House, even beyond his own presidential term, and that would ensure me the culmination of a legacy. _

His features harden.

"_Isabella Swan interfered with those plans, so the Senator placed a call to Edward, convincing him that duty and responsibility to his country meant he had to give up Isabella. It worked, initially," _he shrugs_, "but when Edward went back for Isabella after his tour of duty ended, the Senator had me hire a PI that would ensure that Edward never found Isabella. When that same PI uncovered the fact that Isabella was now carrying Edward's child, we made sure that Edward never found out. Again, it worked –for six years this time." _He sounds almost proud of himself for a second_. "And while Isabella raised their child on her own, the now President and I looked for any means to discredit her should she ever appear in Edward's life again and become a problem."_

Carlisle closes his eyes, pausing yet again. Next to me, Edward's chest heaves up and down.

"What the fuck? What is he…" He rakes a hand furiously through his hair.

"_Edward and Isabella did find each other once more, and my son found out about his daughter, Elizabeth…London Cullen." _

It's strange, but for one short moment, Carlisle appears to be fighting a smile. His speech thus far has been convoluted and perplexing; he lacks Edward's charisma, his power not only with words, but with body language. He lacks Edward's heart.

But he suddenly straightens himself up in his seat. When he continues, his words have more power. No, he'll never be the communicator that Edward is, but with the subject matter at hand, I don't think anyone watching right now cares how well he speaks.

"_My son saw what I failed to see; he saw that his legacy consisted of so much more than what those of us who tried to guide him could've ever imagined. When he was once again given an opportunity to choose, Edward chose his family, Isabella and his child, at the expense of the President's political backing. That choice has started a war of which you, the public, are now only getting a small taste."_

I draw in a sharp breath and reach out for Edward's hand_._ At first it's stiff and clammy, but then he laces our fingers together so tightly that I know he's trying to gather the strength we've always gotten from our connection.

"_Yes, President Martin was involved in covering up the existence of the Congressman's child. He knew from the very beginning. Do I have proof of this?" _he asks himself, and then sneers._ "Of course I don't. The President has covered his tracks well. And yes, I was part of the game for a long time, but…I've realized something recently." _He draws in a lungful of air and exhales slowly_. "Sometimes you do get more than one chance in life, more than one opportunity to make the right choice. But there comes a time when you get your last opportunity, your final reason to stand up for __**something**__. For my son, those reasons came in the form of a strong, loyal woman and a small, innocent child. My reasons…" _

Here, Carlisle's pause lasts so long that I think he might be done and not planning on finishing his thought, at least not out loud.

"_My reasons aren't much different."_

I hear Edward's sharp intake of breath, right before he drops his head. I can feel the bewilderment swimming inside him, and so I do the only thing I can at this moment. I hold him close to me, cradle his head into my breast, slide my fingers through his hair and hope that he knows that I'll always be here for him. And that when it comes down to it-

"_There are pictures of Isabella Swan and Michael Newton during very private moments…"_

My head whips up to the TV again, any and all gratitude I may have started to feel completely wiped away.

"What the _fuck_!" Edward growls.

"…_moments shared long before she and my son found each other once more. This was to be President Martin's ultimate insurance should my son refuse to bow down to his will and stand before all of you vindicating him of all involvement in the cover-up of my son's daughter. When Edward unequivocally refused to do so, it was the President of the United States of America, working through covert channels, who had those earlier pictures of Isabella and Michael leaked to the press in order to try to cheapen their relationship. Of course, the trail will never lead to him, and he plans to have pictures of an even more private nature released at any moment. He also has Irina Petrov ready to falsely accuse Edward of impregnating her and forcing her to have an abortion. The President has an entire arsenal of negative publicity and false accusations headed their way; headed to you, the public's way, as well as towards Michael Newton and anyone else who's willing to stand up for my son and his family._

_Will you, the public, believe me after the way I've shamed my family and my office? I don't know. Frankly," _he scoffs_, "at this point, I really don't care. My son stood his ground for the love of his country, for the woman he loves, and for his daughter. Me?" _He grins.

Carlisle Cullen finally grins and in that one second, I clearly see the resemblance between father and son.

"_I'm here for Elizabeth. Thank you and," _he swallows thickly and his voice breaks_, "God bless you all."_

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Chapter Song Rec: **_**Father of Mine**_** by Everclear.**

**I want to thank all of you who continue reading and reviewing. Summers are so busy for me; that's why I haven't been able to respond to you guys much anymore, and why updates don't come as often or on schedule as they used to. We've only got about two chapters and an epilogue left, so I'm thinking this story should be done by Mid-August at the latest. :) **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	41. Chapter 41 - Body Language

**A/N: I absolutely LOVED reading the reviews for last chapter, especially all of you guys who were caught by surprise with Carlisle's little speech at the end. I've got to admit though that I laughed out loud at the fact that some of you actually thought I was going to have Carlisle blow his brains out on live national television! **

**Also, I know a lot of you were wondering which Elizabeth Carlisle was referring to in that last sentence of his speech. That was deliberately vague so that you guys could come up with your own conclusions. **

**One more chapter after this, and then the epi. I know a lot of you are wondering how I'll wrap it all up in just three chapters, but I think I've got it figured out. (And don't forget the outtakes from EPOV). :) **

**Betad by the lovely Michelle Renker Rhodes.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

**Chapter Song Rec: _Wake Me Up (When September Ends)_ by Green Day (one of my favorite songs ever).**

* * *

**Chapter 41 – Body Language**

**January, 1998 (Bella, 12 years old)**

_My dad sits on the sofa, the lines on his forehead set in concentration as he reads this morning's copy of __The Sun.__ The telly is tuned to one of those worldwide news shows that Dad insists on watching. Rose and I think the anchors are bloody boring wankers; I mean, who cares what's going on in the rest of the world outside Leigh anyway? _

_Rose and I keep these thoughts, as well as the language we use to express them, to ourselves because we don't want my mum to pull our tongues out of our mouths for using the word "wanker."_

_So Rose and I finish up our homework at the table as quickly as possible so that we can run up to my room and catch the end of Eastenders on my small telly._

"_Are you going home tonight, then?" I whisper quietly._

"_No, my mum has a friend over, and I'd rather not be around…" She glares down at her math page, and the way she grimaces makes my heart hurt for her. _

"_That's better anyway," I tell her._

_After a few seconds, she looks up and gives me a faint smile. _

"_Hey, why don't we try on some of Mum's new make up after-"_

"_What's going on, then?" my dad asks. "You girls are supposed to be doing your homework, not chatting away about boys."_

"_We weren't even talking about boys, Dad," I respond with an eye roll._

"_Hmph." He pretends to be cheesed off at us, but I can see the way his mustache twitches in amusement. "You better not be. No girls of mine are going to be dating until they're at least in their mid-twenties."_

_I purse my lips in protest, but Rose giggles because she loves it when my dad talks about her as if she's his too. It makes me feel good as well; we can keep pretending we're really sisters._

"_That's not fair, Dad, because you and Mum met when you were only-" _

"_Shh, shh, shh," he cuts me off and turns his attention back to the telly. "Let me hear this, girls."_

"_**Now, I have to go back to work on my State of the Union speech. And I worked on it until pretty late last night. But I want to say one thing to the American people. I want you to listen to me. I'm going to say this again:**__** I DID NOT HAVE SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH THAT WOMAN, MISS LEWINSKY. **__** I never told anybody to lie, not a single time; never. These allegations are false. And I need to go back to work for the American people. Thank you."**_

_My dad scoffs. "Hah! That's pure bollocks! Did you see the way the bloke's eyes kept twitching? That right there is called reading body language, girls! I hope all those Americans aren't naïve enough to believe that!" _

"_What's he talking about, Dad?"_

"_Seems like randy President Clinton was fooling around with one of his interns, and now it's turning into a big scandal over there in the U.S."_

"_Charlie!" - my mum hisses, walking into the front room with Alice on her hip – "don't talk to the girls about those things!"_

_My dad reaches out and pulls both my mum and Alice over his lap. She wraps one arm around his neck and holds Alice close to her with the other, shaking her head at him. _

_He laughs. "Why not, Ren? They're not babies anymore, for God's sakes. Besides, I'd rather they know what's going on in the world around them instead of have them be uninformed. This way, they'll have educated views on life. Don't you agree, my love?"_

_He nuzzles her neck, and Rose and I roll our eyes at their embarrassing display of affection._

_Mum chuckles. "I suppose you're right. So what would be the educated view here, then?"_

_He turns his eyes back to the screen. "The educated view here would be to never trust a politician. They're all dirty, the lot of them," he smirks. "Bella, Rose, Alice, if any of you ever marry a politician, I'll disown you."_

_I roll my eyes again, Rose giggles once more, and Alice asks, "What's a polpician?"_

"_That's pol-it-ician, Darling," Mum enunciates in her patient manner, "and never mind your dad girls. Politicians are as human as we are, and like us, they make mistakes. Some do things that can be easily forgiven; others do things that can't be so easily forgiven. What matters is that they learn from their mistakes." _

"_What happens if they don't learn from them, Mum?" I ask._

"_Then they're bound to repeat them, and while we as humans may be forgiving in nature, there's only so much we'll forgive from those who are supposed to be leading us by example. Now that's enough politics in this house for one evening. Charlie, change the channel and put on Eastenders."_

_My dad protests with loud groans, but in the end, Mum wins out as usual, and Rose and I sneak peeks at the telly while trying to finish our homework._

OOOOOOOOOO

**Present:**

We stand around in silence for about five minutes, simply staring at each other. On the television, the reporters to which the cameras have cut appear as stunned as we are - for the first couple of minutes, at least. Then the two anchors scramble for something to say, for some way to dissect Carlisle's speech.

"_Uhm…well…that was former Congressman Carlisle Cullen, who is currently under investigation…"_

"Alright, let me know how it goes," Edward mutters into his phone. With a deep sigh, he hangs up and meets my gaze. The thing is, at the moment, I have no idea what to say to him.

"I don't…understand," Alice asks, looking dazed. "Why would he mention the pictures? He confessed to everything and confirmed Martin's involvement. Why would he mention the possibility of _more_ pictures of my sister? Now the public is definitely going to want to see those."

Jasper rests his hands on her shoulders and carefully turns her towards him.

"Alice, Carlisle has just made it so that those pictures, if they even exist, _never_ see the light of day."

"_How_?" she frowns.

"Alice, Darling," I say quietly, "Martin's only hope of discrediting everything Edward's father just said is to ensure that the things Carlisle mentioned would happen, _never_ actually happen, otherwise he'll be validating Carlisle's entire speech. Carlisle has no proof of anything, but if those pictures ever get released, if Irina ever makes that statement, if women suddenly accuse Michael of sexual harassment, if _any_ suspicious, negative publicity comes our way in the near future, the public will immediately blame Aro. They'll be waiting and watching now. Carlisle has quite literally tied the President of the United States' hands. We are untouchable at the moment."

She gasps, looking at me wide-eyed. I know exactly how she feels because saying it out loud has made it all the more concrete; I'm in a state of utter disbelief.

"So it's over?" she asks.

I hear the hope in her voice; I _feel_ it deep in my own chest where that same hope begs to be allowed to take hold. Where only a few moments ago I was dreading months and months of scandal, of accusations, of having to explain to my daughter things she's still too young and innocent to understand, the pure, unadulterated expectancy I'm feeling now is overwhelming.

"My father has just…taken a lot off of our plates," Edward confirms. When he rakes a hand through his hair, it stays there, gripping tight. "Martin can't attack us now without it being perfectly clear what he's doing, and who is ultimately behind everything."

His cell phone vibrates just then, and as he puts it to his ear, his eyes remain intently on mine. Jasper's phone rings at the same time.

"Alright, then. Thanks. I'll get back to you," Edward says.

"At what time?" I hear Jasper ask over his phone call.

Edward hangs up and his phone vibrates again. "Yes, Senator. Yes. I'll have to get back to you." He switches over to the other line. "Congressman Holder. Yes, I'll get back to you."

His cell phone vibrates yet again, but this time he doesn't answer it. With a heavy sigh, he meets my gaze.

"This doesn't end everything. President Martin is holding a press conference in half an hour."

I swallow thickly, my heart beginning to race once more.

"But…" Edward continues, "there's nothing he can say at this point that will win him that election. He can refute all my father's claims, he can come at us with everything my father claimed he'd do, but the public will see right through it now. Martin's re-election bid is all but destroyed, and at this point, we don't even have to lift a finger; we can simply sit by and let him implode on himself…" He presses his lips tightly together.

"But?"

"But…" – he sighs – "what sort of man would I be, what sort of a representative, if I simply left things the way they are now, without personally letting the public know what's just happened, without giving them some form of reassurance?"

I reach up and cradle his face. "And what kind of relationship would we have, what sort of team would we be, if I didn't know that this is how you'd feel?"

His face lights up with relief, and he wraps his arms around me tightly.

"God, Bella. I just…" He exhales roughly into the top of my head. "God…"

"I know, Edward. I know. We'll work our heads around it later. Right now, you have still have to hold your press conference."

"Jessica has it set up," Jasper confirms, ending his call. "You'll go on a few minutes after Martin. She tried to get you on before him, but…"

"But he _is_ still the President. That's fine," I say with a dismissive wave because I feel it deep inside me, in the same place where my mum must get her instinctive optimism: we'll get through this. We will. "The public needs to hear from you now more than ever, and the sooner, the better. That speech must've left them all as dumbfounded as it's left us."

A steely determination takes over Edward's features. "Come with me, Bella."

For a fraction of a second, I hesitate. Not because I don't want to be there with him, but because I'm still a bit frightened that my presence will only do more harm than good. That it will be seen as a ploy.

But I don't want to run away anymore, not from Aro Martin, and not from the press - and neither does Edward.

"If you need me there with you, then that's where I belong."

OOOOOOOOOO

At exactly eight p.m. Eastern time, on a cool mid-October evening, President Aro Martin, looking as solemn and dignified as ever, delivers a short, unscheduled speech. Edward, Jasper, Jessica and I watch it from Edward's office:

"Good evening my fellow Americans. I'd like to first apologize for interrupting your nightly routines and busy lives to address you regarding the…unexpected, upsetting and _completely false_ allegations made this evening by my long-time friend, former Congressman Carlisle Cullen. I'm not going to stand up here before you and deign each comment with a response, but will simply say this: I _never_, at any point in my life, had anything to do with the events that occurred between Congressman Edward Cullen and the mother of his child, Ms. Isabella Swan. I never directed former Congressman Carlisle Cullen to take any actions to keep his son and Ms. Swan apart; I had no knowledge of the existence of his child, and I have planned nothing against the current Congressman and his fiancée. And that is really all I have to say about this entire debate."

Furious questioning starts flying his way while he stands there seemingly patient. He's a good speaker: clear, concise, to the point. It's one of the things that have always been admired about him.

"Mr. President, is it true that you personally contacted Edward Cullen when he was in the service and asked him to choose between Isabella or your political backing?"

"No, it is not true," Aro says emphatically.

I look over at Edward. His lips are pressed together tightly, nostrils flaring.

"Is it true that you and the former Congressman had plans to continue your political influence through Congressman Edward Cullen should he make it to the White House?"

"That's ridiculous," Aro snorts. "No, it is not true."

"Congressman," another reporter says, "Carlisle Cullen claims that the Private Investigator that he hired with government funds to keep track of Isabella Swan, a Mr. Jay Jenks, was hired not only with your backing, but under your personal direction. What is your response to that?"

"Again, it is completely untrue."

"Why, Mr. President, would Mr. Cullen make these allegations? Why would he claim you were involved in these schemes?"

Aro's voice sounds less controlled when he responds. "I don't know why he'd make these allegations. I can only hazard to guess that now that he finds himself in deep legal problems, he's looking for someone on which to lay the blame."

"Mr. President, all summer, allegations and rumors have been buzzing around about your possible involvement in the cover-up of Edward Cullen's daughter. The issue isn't so much whether you knew, but what steps you may have taken to cover up her existence, and whether or not you misused your power and office to-"

"Listen to me. I'm going to say this one more time: I had nothing at all to do with the cover-up of Congressman Edward Cullen's child! Nothing!"

Another reporter takes over.

"What about the pictures leaked to the press today of Ms. Swan and Newton Enterprises CEO, Michael Newton? Did you have anything to do with that?"

Edward reaches out and takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers together.

"Absolutely not."

"Do you know anything about the possibility of more pictures, as the former Congressman alluded?"

"Of course not. How would I know about anything of the sort?"

"The former Congressman claims you were trying to blackmail his son into absolving you of all involvement in the "Babygate" scandal, since he did vaguely accuse you of being involved during his press conference last summer."

"That is a falsehood and a gross misrepresentation on the press' end. Congressman Cullen never accused me of anything. He was referring to his father, and to whomever else he may have been referring is anyone's guess, but the opposing party quickly put out word in the press circles that the Congressman was referring to me."

"So you had no knowledge of the pictures leaked today, or of any other pictures that may exist?"

Edward fingers trace soft, soothing circles over the top of my hand.

"There are no other pictures! I had no involvement in Carlisle Cullen's dealing with a private investigator. He, in conjunction with those in the opposing party, who have their own agenda, has fabricated this entire story as well as the existence of those supposed pictures. Whatever relationship Ms. Swan and Mr. Newton had at any point in their lives is their concern. How would pictures of that help me in any way?"

Edward snorts, his eyes glued to the screen.

"The former Congressman claims they were to be your insurance."

"I know what the former Congressman said," Aro hisses, his calm composure quickly evaporating. "I watched the same deplorable speech that you did. But I'm telling you that it's false. There are no such pictures."

"Mr. President, you do know that Congressman Edward Cullen plans to hold his own press conference right after you are done?"

Aro's eyes twitch almost imperceptibly; hatred flashes through them so quickly I wonder if I'm the only one who caught it because I'm looking for it, or if it's as clear for the rest of the world as it is for me.

"Did you see that?" Jessica suddenly says. "Did you catch that look? Oh, he's going to regret that."

"Do you think the press caught it?" Jasper asks.

"Of course they did," Jessica smiles. "And if they didn't, we'll make sure that they know about it. We can leak things too."

I think I love Jessica.

"I am aware," President Martin says smoothly once more. "And all I can hope is that he's not planning on spreading the same lies that his father just has." He looks down at his hands and then up once more, an expression of pure sincerity pasted on his face. "The Congressman was once my son-in-law, and while I would've loved to have seen things work out between him and my daughter, I see now that it was impossible. I can play the part of a hurt father on behalf of my daughter, Tanya, who's also innocent in this entire mess, because it's obvious that the congressman's heart was somewhere else the entire time of his marriage. Or we can all be grown-ups about it. The truth is that while what happened to keep the Congressman away from his child is a travesty, it also has absolutely nothing to do with politics or with me. I wish him, Ms. Swan, and their daughter the best in their future, but that's as far as my involvement will go. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a country to run."

He turns and walks off, ignoring the rest of the questions being hurled his way.

"Alright," Jessica says, standing up quickly. Throughout the entire speech, she took rapid notes on her laptop. Walking over to the printer, she picks up a sheet of paper and hands it to Edward.

"These are the extra points you should address in your speech, Congressman."

Edward looks them over, placing the sheet between us so that we can both see. I give him some of my own comments and observations, which Jessica agrees with and then quickly incorporates them into her document.

"Take ten minutes to go over that, Congressman," Jessica directs, "and then please meet us in the lobby." And with that, she and Jasper walk out of the office.

Sitting side by side, Edward and I quickly go over his notes. We're done with about two minutes to spare before he has to go out into the lobby where the press is now waiting for him.

"Are you ready to face them, then?" I ask. "Aro has them waiting for you to simply corroborate everything your father said."

He smirks. "I'm ready for them."

I cock my head sideways and study him: the peace in his eyes, the smoothness of his forehead, the smile on his soft, supple lips.

"You seem so calm," I smile softly.

Edward snorts and pulls me against him, wrapping me up in his arms where I've always felt safe. Now is no exception. If anything, with all that has occurred in the past eighteen or so hours, there's no place I'd rather be. He says nothing for a few moments.

"Bella," he finally breathes, exhaling softly into the top of my head, warming me all the more, "I won this battle a long time ago."

At first, I think he's referring to the political showdown that's about to occur between him and the President of the United States.

But then he pulls me away, and his eyes blaze with so much love it makes me sigh unevenly.

"I won this battle the moment I found you and Elizabeth again. The rest is just an annoying distraction."

It's so much like what my mum said to me just a short while earlier.

I caress his cheek with my hand, locked in his piercing gaze, and then cradling his jaw, I pull him towards me. "Come here."

Our mouths meet soft and tender because yes, the political world may be in an upheaval around us, but we have each other. No matter what comes out of this political fight, we've already won.

Jasper opens the door and peeks in.

"Edward, they're ready for you."

"Let's go," Edward grins.

OOOOOOOOOO

Exactly twenty minutes after the President's press conference, Congressman Edward Cullen of New York State stands in front of a podium set up in the lobby of his midtown office. He's wearing a dark grey pinstripe suit that accentuates his broad shoulders and lean build, a crisp white shirt and royal blue tie that bring out the specks of blue in his emerald eyes. Though I know that he's still feeling disconcerted by what's occurred this evening, he appears calm and in control, perfectly at ease with all the attention, with the cameras flashing in his direction.

"_I won this battle the moment I found you and Elizabeth again."_

I think back to that evening at the fundraiser a few months ago, the shock in his eyes when he first saw me, and then I remember the scene outside of my mum's home back in Leigh, when Edward walked out of that SUV and found out about his daughter.

I didn't know it in those moments full of anger and hurt, shock and bewilderment, but in those painful and confusing moments when I felt completely lost, I was winning the battle too.

The thought makes me smile as I stand in the background, in between Jasper and Jessica. When Edward turns around and reaches out for my hand, I give it to him instinctively, the way I first gave it to him that day seven long years ago. It's instinct, loving him. I know that now. I accept it. I embrace it. My heart feels full as Edward pulls me to him, his lips grazing my skin when he whispers in my ear,

"Don't wander off. I need you close to me."

He can do this on his own; I know he can, yet we once promised to do this together. It was a longer and more complicated road than either of us ever imagined, but we're keeping that promise now.

"Always, Edward. Always."

He grins softly and brushes his lips over mine.

"We're ready, Congressman," someone calls out, and all the whispered conversations and noise around us dies out. With one final grin in my direction, Edward turns towards the cameras:

"Good evening and thank you for allowing me a few minutes of your time. It's been a…strange and somewhat confusing day for all of us, and…I don't want to make it more so, believe me."

The press laughs lightly.

Edward offers them a faint grin. "I know we all lead busy lives with our families, with our careers and with our jobs. We have our own issues to face and don't need to take on additional drama associated with the lives of those who are supposed to be helping us out with our own." He pauses and looks down at the podium for a couple of seconds before looking back up.

"I came before you a few months ago to tell you of my daughter, to tell you of the steps that had been taken to keep us apart. I apologized for bringing my family drama to your door, and I'd like to apologize once again, but when those same forces continue to try to hurt Bella and our daughter, they leave me no choice but to try to protect them with all I have. I'm sure that's something that all of you with a family out there understand."

"I'm not here to defend what my father said a short while ago. There was too much damage caused by his actions for it all to be erased by one speech. My father is an intelligent individual; I'm sure he realizes this. Neither am I here to refute the claims the President just made. I'm here because I made a promise, in front of all of you a few months ago; that I would not stand by and let an innocent woman be slandered before the world in the name of a legacy – and that legacy includes an administration that refuses to let go when it's time is at an end."

A frenzy of heated whispering breaks out among the gathered press.

"As I said, I'm not here to defend one man over the other, or one political party over the other. There's nothing I can say up here that will erase the past seven years, that will give me back my time with my daughter or with the woman I love, and as I've indicated, I bear my own responsibility for that. All those issues, however, are my family's and mine to deal with. But neither will I allow this administration to shrug off the part it played in keeping me from my family when its main concern should have been leading our country in the present, instead of planning and scheming for future leadership."

The reporters yell out questions, knock each other's microphones over in an effort to get nearer, to have their query be the first to be answered, but Edward isn't done.

"We as a global community will face many issues and concerns in our lifetime. Some will affect us on a grand scale, and some on a much smaller scale. It is up to us as a people to decide which issues are worth focusing on. I believe it's time that we put the issue surrounding my family to rest, but I can only do that if I know that my daughter and the woman whom I love will no longer be targets of lies or scapegoats for a waning era.

In that vein, I make a plea to our current administration, that we return to the business of the people, set aside differences for which there will never be amends, because if this continues there will be no winners, and unfortunately, it is innocent people like Isabella, like our daughter, and like you, the American public who will be caught in the cross fire. I'm prepared to continue protecting my family, with _everything_ that I have, and this time, I will _not_ back down.

I leave it to you, the American public and beyond, to draw your own conclusions, to decide a few weeks from now when you cast your ballots whether the occurrences of the past seven years should bear any weight on who leads this country into the future. My own term as congressman will be over, and as I've said before, I simply want to return to my practice, to my daughter and to my future wife. And so after taking up enough of your time on this busy weekday evening, I will only add my hope that God bless you all, and your families."

OOOOOOOOOO

The following day, more newspapers are sold throughout the country than since the U.S. declared war on Japan on December 7, 1941.

Every news outlet on television, radio and internet dissects all three speeches. The speeches are replayed endlessly on television, but Edward's speech is the one replayed the most, surpassing even the President's airtime. The Press examines both men's facial features, their body language, the nervous twitches from one and the sincerity from the other.

Representatives in the House take sides, as do the Senators, the Governors, the Mayors, and the everyday people, who are the true backbone of a country. The strange thing is that the sides aren't drawn along basic party lines, but rather along the amount of outrage felt towards an administration and towards a leader who would take such steps to ensure continued power; his continued legacy.

There is no proof of what Carlisle accuses the President of doing, no proof that he sanctioned the use of government funds to hire the PI, that he abused his power as first Senator and then President to gather information, make threats, blackmail, bribe – all in an effort to keep a little girl away from the man who would one day hopefully be his sitting puppet. There is no proof that any private pictures of Michael and I ever existed.

For the next few weeks, our family drama becomes the dividing point for the upcoming presidential election.

Yet through it all, our family and our friends try to go on with our lives as normally as possible.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Daddy, my friend Sara says that the President doesn't like you or Mummy. She says that your daddy doesn't like you either and that you don't like him."

We're in Central Park, a little over a week before the elections, playing football with Ellie because it's still her favorite sport though she calls it "soccer" now.

I close my eyes and exhale through my nose. Edward continues bouncing the football from one leg to the other, thinking through his answer.

He stops bouncing and lets the ball drop to the floor, kneeling over the grassy field.

"Come here, Elizabeth," he says gently. When our daughter walks to him, he guides her to sit over one leg. Reaching up for my hand, he pulls me towards him and rests me over his other leg. Oyster, always within a few feet of Ellie, circles around us, wagging his tail and panting.

"Your mom and I told you once, back in England, that there were things that we'd explain to you when you got older. Do you remember that?"

She nods, wide-eyed. "I'm older now, Daddy."

Edward and I both chuckle. "We mean a few years older, Darling," I explain to her.

Her lips turn up into a sorry pout, and Edward carefully squeezes her into his chest to cheer her.

"There are…" - Edward sighs - "a lot of things that we'll have to explain to you when you're older, but we're always here to answer your questions as best as we can, Elizabeth. The President…did things of which your mom and I don't approve, things that made us unhappy."

"Is he one of the people who tried to keep me away from you, Daddy?"

Edward nods solemnly.

Ellie watches him, her expression thoughtful, but not frightened; not like she was back in England the first time we explained to her that people had tried to keep us all apart. She's known her Daddy long enough now to trust that he'd move heaven and hell for her, though it may not be something she knows how to put into words.

"Did your Daddy try to keep me away from you too, Daddy?"

A shadow of pain, of hurt crosses Edward's features. I slide my hand along the nape of his neck, rubbing it soothingly.

Edward nods. "My dad, your grandfather, was very sad for a long time, and he made mistakes because he didn't know how to get rid of that sadness."

"Are you angry at him, Daddy, for what he did?"

Edward gazes at our daughter, and then reaches up and gently strokes her cheek before pinching it lightly. Ellie smiles.

"Families are very complicated things, Ellie," I tell her. "Sometimes families consist of people like our mums and dads, sisters, brothers, cousins; sometimes friends become so important that you count them as your brothers, your sisters. And sometimes, even if you love someone in your family, you still hurt them, whether on purpose or by accident."

"Do you understand that, Ellie?" Edward asks.

"I think so," she says carefully. "Like the other day when Aunty Alice stepped on Oyster's foot and made him cry. It hurt me too, and I was upset at her even though I know Aunty Alice didn't mean it."

Edward smiles at his daughter's analogy. "Yes, something like that." He draws in a deep breath. "Anyway, yes, Elizabeth. I am upset at my father. What he did hurt me too, and it hurt you and your mom, and just like you felt it here," - Edward puts a hand over Ellie's heart – "when Aunty Alice stepped on Oyster," – he puts his hand over his own chest now – "it hurt me here when my dad hurt you and your mom. And that's hard to forgive."

"Will you ever forgive your daddy, Daddy?"

For a long moment, Edward doesn't answer. How do you answer a question like that from your own daughter?

"I don't know, Elizabeth. I really don't know."

You answer it honestly.

Ellie watches her dad. "I'm so happy that you found me and Mummy again, Daddy."

Edward swallows thickly and then envelops us both inside his long, strong arms.

"So am I, Elle" he breathes, placing a kiss on each of our heads. "So am I." He holds us for a long time, but eventually Ellie starts squirming like the six-year old little girl that she is, and when Edward sets her down on her feet, she runs off with Oyster.

We stand up, and Edward holds me against him, breathing quietly.

"Are you ever going to contact him?"

"I don't know, Bella. One speech doesn't erase everything he did and…I don't know, maybe eventually."

I can feel the conflict still swimming inside him, and so I hold him tighter, lacing my hands together behind his back and smoothing my fingers up and down his spine. We've both been betrayed by those that were supposed to be there for us, by those closest to us, and neither of us knows exactly how to deal with it.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do, Edward. The things your father did can't ever be taken back, just like what Rose kept from me can't ever be taken back either, but…my mum once told me that if you don't give people an opportunity to learn from their mistakes, how can you ever expect them to redeem themselves?"

He snorts. "I wonder to whom she was referring when she said that?"

I simply chuckle.

He holds me silently, and then says, "I guess only time will tell."

I look up and meet his emerald gaze. "I suppose so."

OOOOOOOOOO

The days pass slowly, like a movie playing in slow motion before our eyes while we wait to get to the crux that will tell us how the entire film will end.

I begin my new project – my article; my piece of our history.

Edward and I have discussed it, and it's still something we want to do; we _need_ to do, not necessarily for ourselves, not even for the bewildered public who still wonder what exactly happened. This is _our_ story, but someday it will be Ellie's story, and it's for her that we have to get it right.

So I write about how Edward and I met, how we lost each other, the mistakes _we_ made as well as all the things that went on around us of which we hadn't even been aware. I write about the part that Carlisle played, but it doesn't overpower the part that a woman long since dead and buried played in our lives, and how it was her love that saved us all, in every way.

OOOOOOOOOO

In the United States, Election Day is the first Tuesday in November. This particular Tuesday begins with a sun as bright and yellow as those in the middle of July. The skies are baby blue, without a cloud to be seen, and while the cool nip in the air reminds us that the summer is long since gone, it's a beautiful day by any measure.

I remind myself of that as I gaze out of our kitchen window while Alice and Ellie chat over their breakfast and I drink a strong cup of American coffee, foregoing my tea for the day.

Yes, it's a beautiful day.

I repeat it like a mantra while Edward walks into the kitchen and wraps his arms around me from behind, nuzzling his warm face into my neck and breathing me in deeply.

"Are you going to be okay this morning?" he murmurs into my ear, sensing the apprehension I refuse to acknowledge aloud.

I angle my face sideways and give him a small grin, nodding because I am going to be okay. Regardless of how the election today goes, we've already won.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" he asks.

I shake my head. "This is a father-daughter activity."

He grins, but I can see the worry lines on his forehead. He doesn't want me alone today. Election days where there's a presidential election are huge to begin with; with the scandal surrounding this one, this promises to be the most publicized presidential Election Day in decades.

"I've got plenty of things to do this morning to keep me occupied," I reassure him. "And Alice is off from university. We're going to spend some time together while everyone else in the city votes. Don't worry, we're going to stay far away from any polling areas, and Seth will be with us."

He snorts, shaking his head. "Alright. We'll be home early."

Edward and Jasper are going to Ellie's school this morning as part of their Election Day activities. They will both be speaking in front of Ellie's class about their jobs: one as Congressman for the very last day of the term, and the other as the Congressman's Chief-of-Staff for the last day. After today, Edward and Jasper will both make their jobs as attorneys their full-time jobs. Regardless of how the election goes, Edward's term in the U.S. House of Representatives is over – and Carlisle's dreams of grandeur for the Cullen name in the form of a Presidency fade deeper into the background.

Alice and I spend the day together, something we really haven't been able to do much of in a while with everything going on. She's been spending more time with Jasper lately, though they're still careful how they act in public. The thing is, with everything else going on, the fact that they are apparently together didn't cause as much of an upheaval as I'd feared. Public outcries for the resignation of a President whose current term is coming to an end took precedence over the love affair between my sister and Edward's Chief-of-Staff. I'm grateful for that small, bright side. I don't want her going through any of what I went through.

OOOOOOOOOO

Ellie and I spend the evening at Edward's townhouse, just the three of us. Alice is staying with Esme – and Jasper I suppose, at Esme's apartment on the East Side.

As of eight thirty p.m., after we've put Ellie in bed, the election is still too close to call. Though the polls leading up to today showed him lagging far behind the opponent, President Martin is fighting tooth and nail. Nevertheless, that's a huge blow to a sitting President who has enjoyed four years of popularity, of high approval ratings, and whose popularity and ratings have plummeted over the course of just a few months amidst a scandal over a little girl.

At about ten p.m, Ellie calls out for me in a frightened voice we don't hear very often. Edward and I rush to her room, and when I sit on her bed, she clings tightly to me.

"Did you have a bad dream, Sweetheart?" I ask.

She nods, burying her head close to my chest.

"Would you like me to stay with you until you fall asleep?" She nods silently again.

"You go on," I whisper to Edward. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

Edward places a kiss on his daughter's head and goes back to the living room to continue watching the election results.

I rock Ellie in my arms for a few minutes, singing her a quiet lullaby my mum used to sing to me when I was a little girl.

"Mummy?" Ellie asks.

"Yes, Darling?" I look down into her emerald eyes, exactly like her father's.

"I don't want President Martin to win."

I hold her gaze, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. My hand smoothes back a few stray locks of hair that cover her cheek.

"Ellie, whether President Martin wins or not, he'll never take your Daddy away. Don't ever forget that."

"He won't?" I can hear the tinge of fear in her voice, and it breaks my heart.

"No, Darling," I assure her gently. "Your Daddy will never let anyone take him away from us again."

"Do you promise, Mummy?"

A few months ago, it sent a shiver of fear up my spine to make my daughter any promises regarding her father and his permanency in our lives.

But I know now.

"I promise you that, with all my heart and soul," I smile.

She releases a long, heavy sigh, and smiles brilliantly.

OOOOOOOOOO

It takes Elizabeth about ten minutes to fall back asleep, and when she does, I return to Edward.

He's sitting over the sofa, his elbows resting over his legs, head down, hands clasped together. The TV is off.

With a heavily pounding heart, I approach him, kneeling in front of him and resting my head over his knees. He slides his hands into my hair and caresses my scalp.

"Tell me more about when Elizabeth was a baby."

My throat is dry, almost locked tight, but he deserves these small glimpses, the only ones he'll ever have of his daughter's first years of life.

"My mum used to laugh at the fact that she was a ginger until about six months of age."

He snorts.

"She used to love bouncing on my legs, even at just a couple of months old. And heaven forbid if the car stopped at a red light – she'd start screaming bloody murder!"

He laughs.

"She could speak in short sentences at a year old, just two or three words together, but my Mum was so proud of her!"

"I can imagine," he breathes, and I know he's doing exactly that; imagining. Only imagining the moments he'll never have with Elizabeth; because of our mistakes, but also because of Aro's interference.

"Edward-"

"Martin conceded the election a few minutes ago."

In the past few weeks, I haven't even realized that I haven't been breathing fully, that I've been holding some of my breath until this moment arrived; this decision, one way or the other.

I let out a long, ragged breathe while silent tears stream down my face. Edward picks me up and rests me sideways over his lap, rocking me gently against his strong chest.

"It's over, Baby. It's over."

OOOOOOOOOO

That night, our love-making is slow and tranquil. When Edward moves inside me, there's a deep sense of peace, as if we've finally exorcised the demons that have haunted us for the past seven years; we've forgiven our mistakes, and the wrongs that were done to us have been vindicated at least in some small way, though nothing will ever give us time back.

I remember that weekend seven years ago, the young soldier who stole my heart, my virginity, my innocence. But I also remember the passion; the passion that couldn't be denied no matter what came in between us.

He gazes at me with eyes full of love as I rock slowly over him, as the heat that only he's ever made me feel builds within, and then he sits up, locking me against him with his arms while I tangle my legs around his waist.

"_Edward_…I've always loved you," I admit against his lips while he swallows my ragged breaths. "Always."

He groans thickly and grabs my face between his hands, in that way he's always done that makes me feel precious; that makes me feel safe. His thrusts are long and deep, taking me to a heaven I've only ever known with him.

"Always, Bella."

OOOOOOOOO

While Edward sleeps, spent and sated, I turn on the television.

President Martin is giving his concession speech.

I watch for about five minutes as he talks about his accomplishments, his hopes for a better tomorrow, but after about five minutes I simply shut it off. I've had enough of Aro Martin to last me a lifetime.

So instead, I walk over to Edward's small desk, in a corner of the bedroom, and open up my laptop because our story isn't over; a new chapter has simply begun.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**One more chapter, and an epi left. **

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	42. Chapter 42 - From this Moment

**A/N: So yeah, I goofed again. Edward is still Congressman until the term ends in January. Now that one I DID know - I just forgot, LOL. Thanks to all my lovelies that reminded me. **

**This is the last chapter before the Epi. I want to thank you all so much for continuing to read and review even when I haven't been able to get back to reviews in so long.**

**So let's get on with it, shall we?**

**Betad by the ever-ready Michelle** **Renker Rhodes. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Chapter Song Rec: **_**From This Moment**_** by Shania Twain**

* * *

**Chapter 42 – From This Moment**

The trees surrounding Oyster Bay Estate are decked out in thousands upon thousands of white, glowing lights that twinkle brightly and turn the night sky from pitch black to soft grey. The white tent set up on the small beach in the back is decorated with dozens of red and white poinsettias in large, crystal vases. Holly berries are intertwined with small, white lights and weaved into the ceilings and walls, illuminating the entire space with a muted yet radiant glow. The white tablecloths hold votive candle centerpieces surrounded by white lilies and red roses.

Outside, the winter wind blows cold and insistent, but inside, fireplace-shaped space heaters and the absolute happiness of the moment keeps us all as warm as a perfect spring day.

Edward and I are anything but a traditional couple, and while I wish my father could've been at my side today, I know that he's watching from above, and so it's Ellie and Alice who walk with me.

My Ellie looks like a Christmas fairy in white in her spaghetti strap princess gown with a full, tulle skirt and a red silk ribbon tied around her little waist. Over the dress, she wears her Grandmother Elizabeth's white cotton shrug, preserved all these years by her sister, Esme. Her bronze hair hangs in long, spiral curls along her back, with a halo of white baby's breath around her crown. Alice wears a red sheath dress with a white silk belt; it's simple, yet on my little sister, it perfectly matches her understated beauty. I don't believe Jasper has looked anywhere but at her all afternoon.

As for me…well, the tent is set up beautifully, our dresses are all lovely, but it's the man waiting front and center from which I can't take my eyes. He wears an immaculately fitting dark tux that shows off broad shoulders leading to a lean build, and as I gaze at him, there are a few words that jumble around in my head: Exquisite. Flawless. Impeccable. Mine. Finally mine. The tux contrasts with his wild, bronze mane, kept longer for today at my insistence despite Aunt Esme's pleading for a haircut. His red tie is also for me. The rest is all Edward: Green eyes sparkling in the low lights, a square jaw wearing a both happy and smugly glorious grin that makes me laugh aloud - and probably inappropriately - as I walk down the aisle to him.

Our daughter looks up at me at the sound of my laughter, and smiles widely.

"Are you happy, Mommy?"

I force my eyes away from her heartbreakingly handsome father to our equally beautiful daughter. She's sounding more and more American with each passing day, and though a few words and sayings still linger, my mum has warned me that these will most likely fade soon as well.

I consider her question carefully before answering.

Am I happy?

I have her.

I have her father.

I have my mum, my sister, and yes, Rose here today.

I have a family of which six months ago I never even dreamed of having.

And though I'm old enough and smart enough to know that life will always have obstacles, her father and I have overcome so many things that I know together, we can overcome anything that comes our way.

"Yes, my Love. Yes, I'm so very happy."

Her smile widens, showing off the same right-cheeked dimple her father has, and her eyes once again return to the front of the tent, to where her father eagerly waits for us.

As I take my place next to Edward and the man of God recites the age-old words spoken at a wedding ceremony, my heart pounds so loudly that I miss half of what's being said. All I know is that once this is over, I will be Mrs. Isabella Cullen – the _only_ Mrs. Cullen now that Tanya has changed her name back to simply Martin, at Edward's insistence.

And I know that I must write this all down as soon as I get a chance, the way that I wrote the rest of our story, though this will only be for us; to remember how beautiful our daughter looked standing with flowers all about her, how much work Esme put into setting up this lovely space for us in such a short amount of time, the wistful smile on my mum's face as she gazed at us with moist eyes, the silly smirk on Emmett's face as he stood a few steps behind Edward, fidgeting restlessly and fussing with his red bow-tie. All of it, to be handed down to Ellie, and perhaps someday, to our children who may come after her.

When we speak our vows, each of Edward's words are wrapped in absolute reverence and conviction. My own vows are spoken in a whispered rush; I simply want this to be over. Seven years can feel like a lifetime when a part of you is missing, when it takes you that long to get somewhere you've longed to be since the very beginning. Yet it's a place we'll be for a lifetime, and I'm so very eager for that lifetime to begin.

Once, I watched Edward marry someone else, his entire demeanor serene and careful, a crooked grin on his mouth. I thought I was watching smugness; satisfaction at the accomplishment of one of his many goals. Now I know it was just a mask; the mask he used to protect himself, to hide his true self behind. We made so many mistakes; both he and I. But the ties that truly bound us were already there. They were bonds that could never truly come undone despite so many errors along the way.

So with a ring on one another's fingers, we bind our lives together for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. And when his mouth finally finds mine in a kiss full of tenderness and relief, full of promises finally kept and new promises made, he cradles my face in his hands in that way of his, that sweet, tender, possessive and careful way.

"I'll love and cherish you forever, Bella Cullen," he whispers against my lips, his thumbs gently swiping away the two lone tears of happiness that have escaped.

Yes, it was a long road, but I know without a doubt that regardless of the wearisome trip, I'm finally, finally home.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next few hours are full of celebration. We dance and we laugh. We eat and we drink. The wind continues blowing, while above us helicopters full of paparazzi circle and circle, but we're safe and warm in our tent.

Edward and I share our first dance as husband and wife. He holds me close to him, his hands splayed firmly against me, running them up and down my bare back unapologetically. Locked in his heady gaze, I wrap my arms snugly around his neck, sliding my hands into the hair at the nape of his neck. The way his lids become heavy with every pass sends a shiver of anticipation up my spine.

The yacht is ready for tonight – our honeymoon night. Our bags are packed for our short trip to Aruba tomorrow evening. We'll be leaving in the evening because neither one of us could bear to leave Ellie on Christmas day, though we know she'll be in great hands with both Esme and my mum.

Edward leans in and ghosts his face against mine, sending a wave of pleasant shudders fluttering in my lower stomach. His lips ghost gently across my chin, down to my jaw and across to my ear.

"Are you happy, Mrs. Cullen?" he murmurs, just as his daughter asked a while ago. He moves me expertly across the dance floor that's been set up inside the tent, swaying his body against mine. When he pulls away and gazes at me, I see the fire burning in his darkened eyes, and I know he's anticipating the night the way I am.

"What do you think, Congressman?" I grin wryly.

"I'm only officially Congressman for about three more weeks," he smirks.

I raise a brow. "Really? Well what in the world will we do with all the extra time you'll have on your hands?"

He gives me a sultry grin that warms me all over before dipping his mouth to mine. "I can think of a few things," – kiss – "in a few places," – kiss – "in a few different positions..."

I moan quietly at his words.

"Hey, you two, get a room!" Emmett hollers.

Laughter erupts all around us. I press my head into Edward's strong chest to hide and remain there, safe and warm while I look out at our guests; our friends and family:

My mum and Esme sit at a table chatting away. They've hit it off as great friends since my mum arrived in the U.S. a week ago. As I sway softly against Edward, they both look up at me, and Esme blows a kiss in our direction. My mum simply gazes at me. At her right sits her granddaughter, who's missed her so very much over the past few months.

My eyes trail to the hands playing with my daughter's hair. Rose runs her hand down the length of Ellie's hair absently while holding a conversation with Emmett to her right.

She looks up at me, and we smile tentatively at each other.

Rose.

My sister by habit, by laughter, by tears. My sister by volition if not by blood.

It's not how it used to be; I honestly don't know if it will ever be that way again. I miss it. I miss my sister, my confidante, the girl who knew me as well as I knew myself, sometimes even better. But seven years ago, we all made choices, and we will all have to live with the consequences of those choices.

No, it's not the same, but we're at a better place than we were a few months ago, thanks to Emmett. Somewhere along the way, he fell in love with her; through quick conversations in England followed by longer phone conversations once he returned to the U.S. with us. There was something there, and while his loyalty to Edward has never wavered, Emmett has a right to his happiness as well. Yes, he knows how wrong Rose was; he knows that what Rose did contributed to his best friend missing out on the first six years of his daughter's life. But we can as much choose who we fall in love with as we can go back in time and fix our mistakes. The best we can do is move forward and try to redeem ourselves, and hope that our love can help redeem those for whom we care.

Edward is still cool and distant with Rose. He tolerates her for our sake; for Ellie's sake, who is still too young to know, for Emmett's sake, who deserves love as much as we do, for my mum's sake, whom Edward loves and respects immensely, and for me. Because as I once told Ellie a few months back, we don't choose our family; sometimes as family we love each other, we betray each other, we hurt and we try to heal, yet brothers and sisters are those that right or wrong, will always be a part of our lives. And though she's not my blood, despite everything, Rose will always be a part of my life.

So for now, once a month Emmett makes a weekend trip to England. If things between them continue to grow and blossom, something will have to give. It's a difficult situation for them, and I wish I knew how to make it easier, but Edward and I found our way. If it's meant to be between them, I'm sure they will too.

I hear a soft giggle carrying over the slow song that Edward and I are still moving to and look up to see that we've been joined on the dance floor by my sister, Alice, who is dancing with Jasper. He gazes at my sister with a look of pure awe and love, so tenderly that my mum, ever protective of her daughters, has taken to him right away despite their age difference. Jasper is always concerned with doing right by Alice; making sure she focuses on university, that she's always safe, and that she's always happy. He's now my cousin by marriage, but in a few years, once Alice has finished with school and is established in her own career, Jasper's made it no secret that he wants her for his wife.

I smile quietly to myself, my head still resting on Edward's chest. His rhythmic heartbeat soothes me, lulls me into a quiet peace. Though the past few weeks have been hectic, it was no longer due to political upheaval or threats from the Martin Administration, rather due to wedding planning and all the attention that came once my article was published in ERA magazine.

My eyes search for Michael. I find him at a table towards the rear of the tent - as handsome as ever in his tux and whimsical gold and silver bow-tie. Michael and his whimsical ties. I recall the last function he and I attended together: a fundraiser for a young congressman who was running for Senator.

Tonight, his date is Jessica Stanley; Edward's press secretary.

Their names have been linked together a bit over the past couple of weeks, in the daily newspapers and columns; pictures of them having dinner together, heads close together, eyes locked on one another. The few conversations that he and I have held in the past few weeks have been business-related, for the article. He hasn't volunteered any information on his relationship with Jessica, and I haven't asked. It's no longer my place to ask such questions, and while his friendship is another I miss, I'd be lying if I said I wanted to renew it. The relationship that Michael and I shared was one that suited us at the time, lacking the closeness a true couple shares, the true intimacy, the trust, the love. I have that sort of relationship now. I can only hope that Michael is close to finding his as well.

He looks up and catches me watching him, and gives me a wry grin before lifting up his fork and clinking it against his wine glass. Soon everyone else in the tent follows suit, and Edward's thumb finds my chin, lifting my face up to him. He kisses me long and slowly, capturing my bottom lip between his own and sucking on it tenderly, over and over...

"That's enough!" Emmett howls again, making everyone laugh. "We're all still here!"

When I hear the sweetest little laughter in the world, I look down and into one of the most beautiful sets of green eyes in existence.

Our daughter stands next to us, gazing up with the most brilliant smile ever.

"Can I dance with you and Daddy, Mummy?"

"Of course you may," I breathe. Edward leans down and picks Ellie up. We each cradle her with one arm and wrap the other around one another's waists, and as we move and sway to the end of the song, I revel in the second chance the three of us were given, in our friends, in the family that's here today, and those that can't be.

And for one minute, I allow myself to think of Edward's father, Carlisle.

Having been sentenced to five years of probation and the revocation of his license to practice law, Carlisle Cullen's problems are nowhere near over. But though Edward – nor I, for that matter – can yet find it in our hearts to forgive the man for the part he played in separating us, and as a parent I hold my own grudges for the horrible father he was to my husband, Edward and I have had long talks on the subject. While we may never be able to completely forgive and forget, we _need_ to move on, for our sakes as well as for the sake of our daughter. And we can't move on while we hold on to anger, to hate, to bitterness.

Edward has spoken twice to his father since the speech he gave before the elections; quick, succinct conversations mainly focused on his legal problems.

Towards the end of their second conversation, Carlisle asked Edward about our daughter, about "little Elizabeth." They were simply basic questions; how well she does in school, what her favorite sport is, her favorite game. Edward has confessed to me that he almost didn't tell him, but for better or for worse, Carlisle Cullen is the only grandfather Elizabeth has left. For now, we'll allow him small glimpses into her life. A couple of times, Edward has told Ellie stories about the good times he shared with both his parents when he was a young boy. We'll build a foundation, but when the time comes, when Ellie is old enough to know, it'll be up to her whether she can forgive the parts played in keeping her father away from her – whether she can forgive Edward, whether she can forgive me, whether she can forgive Rose, and whether she can forgive Carlisle. We'll all have to answer for our sins, and so this is why it's so important that there's a record of exactly what happened; the facts that lay out how the legacy that almost destroyed us in the end became the one thing that brought us back together.

_The Cullen Legacy._ It was the front page article in ERA Magazine for the Thanksgiving issue – an issue dedicated to being thankful for friends, for family and for a country that is slowly beginning to recover from one of the strangest political scandals in recent history. So far, it's the highest selling issue in magazine history. It's been…cleansing for me; and getting back to writing without the additional pressures of the business world, of traveling, of being apart from the people that matter the most to me has been exhilarating. It's something else Edward and I have discussed; the possibility of my doing freelance work from now on. Edward assures me that I'll be in demand for a long-time coming, and I've decided that it's something I want to look into once we return from our honeymoon.

The honeymoon.

The wedding night.

The reception finally starts to wind down, and handful by handful our guests begin to leave. And that's when Edward's and my night really begins.

OOOOOOOOOO

Perhaps it's the wine, perhaps it's the utter happiness of having had everyone I care for under one roof, perhaps it's knowing that Edward and I are husband and wife, but the pure joy I feel this night makes our love-making exhilarating beyond words.

We go from slow and sweet love-making full of whispered endearments and soft caresses…

"I'll love you always."

"You're my everything."

…to lustful sex full of panted guidance and eager groping…

"Mmm…ooh yes, like that. I love it when you lick me there."

"You taste so good. Uhh…yeah, wrap your mouth around me, baby."

…to quick and hard shagging with loud groans and merciless thrusts….

"Yes, Edward, yes! Fuck me harder! Yes! Yes!"

"Fuck, Bella, yeah, baby! Ride my cock hard! Swallow up every last inch of it, baby!"

But when the sun rises in the morning, filling the small cabin with the color of burnt honey, we're back to where we started: Edward moves rhythmically and passionately over me, once again telling me the words I longed to hear for so long.

"I love you. I love you, Bella," he repeats over and over against my mouth, my neck, in between my breasts.

My legs wrap around his waist, holding him close to me, burying him deep inside to where he just reaches my soul. My nails dig into his muscular shoulders and back and I cry out yet again, wanting to tell him how much he means to me, but unable to speak through the orgasm that rips through me while he pulses between my legs.

And when I feel him thrust hard one last time before filling me, I hold him tight, swallowing up his deep groans, cradling his face between my hands.

"I love you so much, Edward. So, so much."

Because regardless of how we begin, or how we end, it will always be full of love.

OOOOOOOOOO

We spend five days in Aruba, swimming in warm, crystalline blue waters I've only ever seen on television or read about, spending lazy days spread out on the sand. No one but our close family knows where we were headed, and our private cabin is secluded from everything and everyone. We make love on the sand, in the water, with our doors open, with our eyes closed. We call Ellie every day, who's having a lovely holiday vacation with both her Nannies, but other than her, there is no other world beyond us here.

Did we ever have problems? Issues? It doesn't feel like it. A world of Carlisles and Aro Martins feels improbable from our white sand beach.

One night, while at a pub a few miles down, an Aussie couple joins us for drinks. We introduce ourselves as Ed and Bella, and they seem completely unaware of who we are, which is perfect as far as we're concerned. Eventually the conversation turns to American politics, and the American election almost two months ago.

"That bloke Martin has become a laughing stock, hasn't he?" the man snickers, taking a long drink from his mug of beer.

Edward simply shrugs nonchalantly.

"I mean, not only will he go down in the record books as one of the few American Presidents not able to win a second term, but that "Babygate" scandal has got to go down in history as one of the worst presidential wrongdoings in American politics. I mean, what kind of heartless bastard do you have to be to have done something like that?"

He looks at me and I shrug as well.

His wife joins in, addressing Edward. "My sister lives in Florida, and she tells me that while you Americans may put up with a lot and forgive much, you're ultimately a country built round family values and love and such, and when one of their golden boys gets separated from his child and the woman he loves, well, there was no way you Yanks were going to overlook that!" She chuckles. "It'll shadow his entire political legacy!"

Edward chuckles in return, taking a drink from his own beer. "No. There was no way we were going to forgive that."

"I think we read somewhere that things turned out well for that Congressman and little family," the husband says, looking at his wife for confirmation.

She nods eagerly. "Yes. I think I read that the Congressman is returning to his practice when his term is up. As a matter of fact, I think they recently managed to finally tie the knot. Went honeymooning on some Caribbean island or something of the sort."

Her husband snorts. "Imagine if they're here and we happen to bump into them!"

"That would be hilarious!" she replies.

Edward and I look at each other and grin.

"Well, either way," the husband says, raising his beer mug, "here's to the Congressman and his family. May they have all the happiness in the world!"

"I'll certainly drink to that," Edward says, and we all raise our mugs and click them together.

OOOOOOOOOO

For the next several months, we settle into a relatively peaceful life.

Jasper and Edward's practice is exceedingly successful, with a reputation for honesty and integrity earned as much from their legal work, as from everything that Edward confessed to before the election. He never pretended to be perfect, and the American public appreciates that.

The current President, while neither extremely imaginative nor revolutionary, keeps my new home safe and balanced.

My freelance journalism career takes off, and I'm able to do what I love to do without having to leave my family.

After about a year, Edward finally relaxes enough so that Emmett is once again the only security we need, and even he is more family that is always around rather than an employee. Emmett travels a lot too, between England and New York, to visit Rose. We've taken the trip with him a few times, to visit my mum, though occasionally Mum comes across to us, as she and Esme have become great friends.

Life is almost perfect. If there's one thing that keeps me up sometimes it's that I stopped using birth control about four months into our marriage, yet one year in, I've yet to get pregnant. It surprises me, and worries me a bit considering how quickly it happened the first time with Ellie. Edward tries to comfort me; he reminds me that he's happy just as we are; simply the three of us. But I long to give him those moments he missed out on with our daughter. I know it'll never replace his time with Ellie, but he deserves to know what it's like to hear your child's first cries, to see him or her smile for the first time, to see their first steps…

One night, about a year and a half into our marriage, Edward arrives home late from the office. Most nights he makes sure he's home early, but he's a well-respected, hard-working and dedicated man. There are bound to be late nights.

I'm already in bed when I hear the key turn in the knob, but I smile to myself, because I've missed him today, and because we have so much to talk about.

He walks into our bedroom, and though I can't see him because my back is turned, I feel his eyes sweep over me. For a long while, he simply stands there and his gaze warms me, makes me feel safe and so loved and cherished.

When he finally jumps into the shower, my heart starts racing in my chest, anticipating his arrival into our bed.

A few minutes later, Edward slips into bed beside me, letting his hands smooth over my body, from my legs to my thighs and when he reaches my bum he caresses it tenderly, around and around. I sigh in utter contentment before turning over.

Except for the sliver of moonlight streaming in through the slits of our blinds, our bedroom is pitch black. But it's enough to illuminate his beautiful silhouette, enough for me to see his sparkling emerald eyes. He smirks ruefully.

"I'm sorry, Love. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping," I smile tenderly, and then flip over to position myself over him. I support my weight over his bare chest, holding myself up with my arms so that I can hold his curious gaze.

"It's late," he admonishes gently. "You should've been sleeping. Don't you have a meeting with that magazine tomorrow for another piece?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something," I say.

He raises a brow. "Something that couldn't wait until morning?"

I nod.

He watches me thoughtfully; one hand still caressing my backside, the other playing with the length of my hair.

"Go ahead."

I sigh deeply, locking him in my gaze.

"Jasper came to see me tonight."

His hand stops moving across my bum for a second, and he raises a brow. "About?"

"You know about what."

He doesn't respond.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" I question.

"I'm not sure if there would've been a point in my bringing it up."

For a long time, we simply gaze at each other. I play with the soft hairs on his chest, while he resumes his ministrations.

"Is it something that you want, Edward?"

He sighs and brings both hands up to cradle my face.

"What I want is for you and Elizabeth to have the kind of life we've had for the past year; quiet, normal, without the press following your every move."

"But what do you want for yourself?" I insist.

"I have everything I want for myself," he responds.

I stare at him. "Edward, you told me once, a long, long time ago, that though you didn't want to get there the way your father was guiding you, you _did_ want to get there. I want your fulfillment. I want you to reach your goals. I want you to do things because you want to do them, not because of what you think _I_ want. I told you once, Edward, an equally long time ago, that I thought you had this…charisma, this strength, something that absolutely emanates from you, and if they want you to run for the seat the Governor is being forced to vacate, and if it's something you want to do, then I think that you can do great things there."

Edward never puts his mask up fully with me anymore. Not the way he used to. But sometimes, he still attempts to hide things he thinks he's protecting me from.

Right now, he's trying to hide the hope I see shining in his expressive eyes, but I see right through him.

It makes me laugh.

"Why are you holding yourself back? You can do so many great things! Don't hold back on my behalf!"

"What about our daughter?" he smirks.

"Our daughter is eight years old and has both of her parents now, who love her and treasure her more than anything in this world. That's all she needs; to know that we love her, that we'll always be there for her and that we would give up the world for her…" – I'm shivering suddenly, my words are shaky because my breathing is uneven. But I take my husband's hand and kiss his palm softly before placing it on my stomach – "…and for any little brother and sister that comes along."

"You're pregnant," Edward breathes and grins just as shakily as me. He guides my forehead to rest over his, and for a long time, we simply lie there, our uneven breaths washing over each other.

"_Bella…Bella…Bella_…" He repeats my name like a prayer, like a litany, just like he did when we first met.

"_Edward_…it's time to fulfill your legacy."

"My legacy is sleeping peacefully in her bed." His hand drops between us, and he caresses my still-flat stomach. "My legacy is safe and warm inside you." He moves his hand over my heart. "My legacy is here."

I nod, my throat tight and my eyes stinging, but I'm so full of happiness I fear I may burst.

Edward draws in a deep breath. "If we do this, I need you by my side, every step of the way. You're my strength, Bella; you and Elizabeth and…this other beautiful, wonderful life are my redemption. You're my life. I can't get there on my own."

I cradle his head between my hands, holding him as if he's one of the most precious things in my world, because he is. He is. I hold his gaze.

"Edward, you'll never have to get there on your own. We'll get there together."

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**So funny, I was just watching a special on the Today Show about the original "Camelot," JFK and Jackie (who by no means had a fairy-tale marriage, btw).**

**I have no words for how much I want to thank all of you for taking this ride with me. It's been…wonderful, for lack of a better word. Thanks for reading, for reviewing, for giving me all your complicated and happy and angry and confused and all kinds of thoughts throughout this story. I absolutely loved how much it made you all think to the very end.**

**And well, I'll leave it there because we still have the Epi coming up later this week, and I'll finish up all my thanks then. :)**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by Pattyrose' is on my profile page.**


	43. Epilogue - The New Age

**A/N: Alright, y'all. Without further delay, here's the epi. :)**

**Beta'd by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes, who I'd like to thank with all my heart for another story completed together. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer.**

**Chapter song rec: **_**Radioactive**_** by Imagine Dragons**

**Epilogue – The New Age**

* * *

"He's a ginger," I marvel quietly, as I've done about half a dozen times in the last hour or so. "Wait until my mum sees him. He looks just like Ellie did when she was born."

I ghost my hand lightly over our newborn son's head, feeling the bits of fuzz on his scalp - soft downy the color and texture of peach skin – just like his sister at birth.

"Two gingers…all those years apart," I whisper. "What are the odds?"

"It's the Masen in him," Edward smirks, his eyes firmly on his newborn son as he rests safely in his arms. "I was the same, and Aunt Esme tells me that she and my mom were exactly that way when they were born as well."

Baby Cullen's eyes are closed comfortably in sleep, sated and satisfied after a first feeding.

"It'll darken anyway," he murmurs without lifting his gaze from the bundle in his arms. His thumb brushes over our new son's temple, stroking tenderly. Tiny lips pucker; breaths like a faint breeze flow in and out of a miniscule round mouth. Hands the size of my thumb lie fisted over a gently heaving chest – just like Ellie as a newborn.

"You're probably right. Ellie's darkened within a few months as well. In a few years, it'll most likely be exactly her shade – your shade. Oh well."

Edward grins softly; though I can see the utter pride in the lift of his mouth as well. He's sitting next to me, so close that his deep breaths reverberate throughout my entire chest. I rest my head on his shoulder as we both gaze down in fascination at the new life we've created together. Edward touches the tip of one finger to our son's jaw line – already a miniature replica of his own – to his diminutive lips, and to the tip of his nose.

"Have you decided on a name?"

"Oh, I'm allowed to name him, am I? How kind and generous of you. After all, it's not as if I carried him for nine months, dealt with five months of morning sickness and now have to live with a throbbing fanny that's out of commission for a couple more months. Yet as soon as he pops out of me you've nicked him for yourself." I gesture toward his full arms. "I assumed my job here was done."

When Edward's head turns my way, it's as if he's had to physically force his eyes away from his son. I'd be horribly gutted if I didn't know how much he loved me. Wrinkles of confusion mar his forehead, until he takes in my teasing grin.

"You know, I love it when you revert to your cockney." He leans in and kisses me softly on the mouth, tugging on my bottom lip.

"Yes, I know, I know." I roll my eyes, pulling away and feigning mock exasperation. "But as I said, me fanny is out of service for a while, so don't go getting any ideas."

He chuckles and wriggles his brows suggestively. "Oh, I've always got ideas, Love. Haven't you heard? I'm a very imaginative leader. Don't worry; we'll get that sweet fanny of yours up and running again in no time."

I shove his shoulder and he laughs, cradling our son protectively, forming a cage with his arms to keep him safe.

"It's too soon for sex jokes, Edward. I'm still quite sore," I moan. "As for his name…I know we discussed a few and I was thinking I'd like to settle on…Matthew Alexander: Matthew for your granddad, and Alexander for mine."

He locks me in his gaze for a few moments before dipping his mouth to mine, and this time I don't pull away. Our son lies safely cocooned between us.

"That's perfect," he breathes against my lips. "Thank you, Bella, so much, for giving me this miracle. It was unexpected, but no less wonderful, Love."

"You and I are apparently the king and queen of unexpected miracles," I chuckle. "But we've given _each other_ this miracle," I remind him.

For a few glorious moments, we remain wrapped around one another, literally and figuratively, enjoying the new life with which we've been blessed. Little Matthew's arrival was over two weeks early, though the pregnancy was at it's full-term, thank goodness. Nevertheless, the now-wrinkled partial suit Edward wears - jacket thrown haphazardly over a chair in the corner while his tie lies loose around his neck and his shirt sleeves are rolled up over his elbows, as well as my own red dress dumped unceremoniously on the floor - are proof that we were taken by surprise. Those that were waiting for us will be demanding some serious, detailed answers.

Then there's a knock at the bedroom door, and Ellie pokes in her head.

"May I come in?"

"Of course you may, Sweetheart." Edward grins at his first-born, scooting over to make room for her on our bed. No, there was no hospital delivery this time. My pregnancy was as normal and uneventful as you can really call growing a baby inside you, and besides I've done this before. With proper caregivers surrounding me, and my mum and Esme shouting out instructions to and fro, we had a relatively peaceful home birth.

Ellie tiptoes carefully towards us, yet her entire frame absolutely quivers with excitement. She looks so beautiful this evening that my heart clenches tightly in my chest, joy at having a newborn warring with the knowledge that my Ellie is no longer a baby. The pink and black dress she wears suits her perfectly. Her hair is up in a simple ponytail that allows her long, wavy locks to flow like a waterfall down her back.

"Do you want to hold him?" Edward asks her as she takes a seat across from us on the bed.

"I don't want to drop him!" she chuckles. "He's so tiny!"

"You won't drop him," I assure her as Edward situates our son into his big sister's arms. "We've named him Matthew Alexander."

"After your granddads," she says, gazing down at her baby brother. "Nan Renee's dad and Granddad Carlisle's dad."

"Yes," I confirm. "You remembered."

"Of course I remember, Mom. Nanny talks about Great Granddad Alexander all the time, and Granddad Carlisle…" she smiles wistfully. "He would've liked the name. He would've called it a strong name."

My eyes trail to my husband. His eyes remain firmly on the baby, but he draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Yes," he breathes. "He probably would've."

With another lungful of air, Edward casts a grin towards Ellie. "Where's everyone else?"

"With Aunt Alice and Nan Esme. Speaking of which, Dad, you'd better get yourself out there soon. Uncle Jasper is close to having a coronary. You're over half an hour late for your speech."

"I'll get out there soon enough," Edward says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Dad," Ellie says with a raised brow, "it _is_ your acceptance speech."

"Yes, well," he grins at his daughter, "I've got more important things going on."

"Your son sure had perfect timing," I chuckle. "Go on, Love," I encourage him, "they're waiting for you."

Edward moves in close to me, and whispers in my ear, "You were supposed to be out there with me tonight. How am I supposed to do this without you?"

His words make me feel cherished, needed; because though I know he can easily do this without me, it thrills me to know that all this time later, he still wants me there.

I meet his beautiful, emerald gaze. "You're not doing this without me. I'm always there with you, don't forget that."

There are small laugh lines about his eyes now, occasional worry lines wrinkle his forehead, caused by the immense responsibilities on his strong, broad shoulders. Yet he still has a grin that lights up his face, a presence that demands attention, and a stance that commands respect and admiration.

He graces me with a crooked grin, the one that first brought me to my knees all those years ago, but before he can respond, there's another knock, less patient this time. When the door opens once again, almost a dozen additional people bound in – including an extremely anxious Jasper.

"Bella, Edward, you don't know how happy I am for you both. Should I continue holding them off, or-"

"Edward's coming, Jasper," I assure him. "He's coming."

Jasper grins in obvious relief, while Edward, Ellie, the baby and I are enveloped in excited hugs, whispers and chatter.

"Is that him?"

"He's so tiny!"

"Who does he look like?"

"He looks like me!"

"No, he doesn't! He looks like me!"

"Look at his hair!"

"Another ginger? Oh, Bella, you've outdone yourself, Love!"

"That's Masen hair!"

Questions and comments erupt furiously from curious eyes and mouths, eager to meet Matthew Alexander – a new grandson, a new nephew…a new brother.

"Charlie and Wren, settle down and stop crowding the baby!"

Ellie is now sixteen years old, and as the older sister of now three other siblings, she takes her responsibility to keep them all in line quite seriously. She watches Charlie and Wren, her eight-year old twin brother and sister through cautious eyes, keeping her newborn brother at least half a foot away from them.

"Give him here, Elle darling," Mum instructs, walking over with hands outstretched. She oohs and aahs over her latest grandchild and then hands him over to a waiting Esme, who does her own cooing before handing him over to a waiting Alice.

Jasper moves in and peeks in on the small bundle in his wife's arms.

"He's perfect, guys. Looks a lot like our Pete did when he was born, doesn't he, Alice, honey?"

"Yes," Alice chuckles, "he does. The same ginger hair. Bella, you remember, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," I respond. "It's those Masen genes. You can't escape them."

Esme meets my gaze and grins proudly.

"They skipped those two munchkins though," Jasper snorts, jerking his chin towards our twins.

My mum walks over to our twins and kneels down to wrap them both in a hug. "These two are Swan through and through, just like your dad, Bella, from the deep brown eyes to the wavy brown hair."

"And they're perfect that way." Edward gazes smugly at his twins before turning his eyes back to me. For an immeasurable moment, I hold his gaze.

As a husband, Edward is strong, protective, passionate, helpful and so very considerate. Throughout my pregnancies, he's been the most attentive, involved partner imaginable, more than making up for his absence the first time around.

As a father, he's all these things and so much more. The time and moments he's been able to share with the twins can't ever make up for what he lost with our first-born daughter, but he embraces every second. He reveled in the twins' first words, in their first steps, had tears in his eyes the first time Wren said, "Dada," the first time she twirled in her tutu for him, the first time Charlie rode his bike without training wheels. A father like Edward deserves every moment, every memory, every laugh, every tear and every hug. He's given his children the unconditional love he was taught by his mother, the unconditional love his own father failed to give him after Elizabeth Masen's death. But Edward has learned from both his mistakes as well as his father's, and more than just our family benefits from the man he's become.

No, he's not perfect. Neither is our life, nor any of our relationships, but we've built bonds, and regardless of the mistakes and hardships, some bonds are too strong to be broken.

Rose is important to me, and thereby Edward accepts her, yet this acceptance is made easier by the fact that she lives in England with her husband, Riley, and their two children. We talk and visit as much as we can despite our equally busy and hectic lives, but there's an ocean that lies between us. One we never imagined as girls.

I remember how she and I used to lie on the floor in my room when we were little girls, imagining our intertwined futures: husbands who would be best friends, children who would be as cousins; we'd dream that our families would grow up together for generations and generations to come. Yet I've learned that while sometimes life gives you the most beautiful surprises, not _all_ dreams are meant to be.

In the end, she couldn't leave England, and Emmett couldn't leave the U.S. or those of us who'd become his family. He is still head of our security, and his wife Vicky is a lovely and sweet redhead who's given Emmett two daughters with shockingly fire-kissed hair. He'll get a kick from seeing our son once this hectic night is over and they can stop by - because Emmett and his family _are_ an everyday part of our lives.

And Carlisle…

It's been six months since he passed, and though his relationship with Edward never fully healed, they were both able to find a common ground on which to finally build a shaky peace: there mutual love for Elizabeth, for _both_ Elizabeths. In the end, Carlisle atoned for his sins through his grandchildren, and in the process, hopefully learned the true meaning of a legacy.

Our daughter, Elizabeth, is aware of the circumstances surrounding her birth. She knows that her father wasn't there. She knows the parts we all played in that - Edward, Rose, Carlisle, myself. But Elizabeth was blessed with her namesake's ability to see the good in people through all the bad. I've learned that life isn't always about what we may or may not deserve. Despite our short fallings, despite the way we wronged her, Elizabeth has allowed us to make amends.

Throughout all the excitement going on about me, my eyes remain on Edward: my husband, my lover, and father to my children.

It's been a decade since we found each other once more, yet when I look at him, I still see that handsome soldier that, seventeen years ago, sauntered into a pub in Mile End one night and stole an English girl's heart with one look, with one touch.

No, that's not exactly true.

I see so much more now.

Edward is not that same man. The boy I met in that pub so long ago had no idea what his true legacy was. This man, the one still gazing at me with eyes full of love, will never waver from it.

None of us are the same: not Edward, not I, not Rose, not Carlisle, not my mum or Esme, or Emmett or Jasper, and not even Ellie. The events of our lives have shaped us, and while we'll all carry some form of regret with us for the rest of our lives, we've all done our best by those we love.

Yes, I'm lost in thought; the birth of a new life has made me wistful, has me thinking of things I haven't stopped to remember in…a while.

But Jasper's anxious to get the show on the road, and he snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Edward, we really do have to get going unless you want me to just postpone-"

"No, no postponing. I want my husband back with us as soon as possible, Jasper. Edward, go give your speech." I give Edward another shove, pushing him off the bed while he groans in complaint, and Jasper helps me out by pulling on his arm.

"Fine, fine, I'm coming!" Edward bellows, but I simply laugh.

"So how should I address you?" Jasper teases. "As the new Daddy for the third time, or as the landslide winner of a second term in the-"

"Uncle Jasper, it's not in good form to rub Daddy's landslide victory into the opponent's face," Ellie points out.

"So smart," Jasper nods. "You're right, Elle, that wouldn't be good. Hey, Edward, are you sure we can't convince the House to change the 'naturally-born citizen' laws so that in a couple of decades Ellie can-"

"Leave my daughter alone," Edward growls, while Ellie simply giggles, "and let's go."

Jasper chuckles and leads the way out, and once our newborn is returned to me, the rest follow suit.

When he gets to the door, Edward calls out, "I'll be right there." I hear groans of protest just beyond. I can only imagine the uproar he's causing with his staff due to this very unplanned delay tonight. "Two minutes! Just give me two minutes!" He closes the door against an onslaught of complaint, raking a frustrated hand through his full head of hair.

When he looks at me again, his eyes are warm and tender. No, it's not easy; sometimes it's a bloody madhouse round here, but we try to find the right balance.

Slowly, he makes his way to my side again, with that confident strut of his that has always sped up my heart rate. When he takes his seat next to me one more time, he reaches out and runs a warm hand down the length of my hair.

"It's going to feel strange up there without you by my side."

"I know," I smile apologetically. "I wish I could be there with you, but that's not going to happen this time."

He snorts. "You know you're all they're going to want to hear about anyway - you and the baby."

"You'll have the rest of our children there with you, and besides, you've got to remind them of what you're really there for, Edward," I urge him. "Remind them of how far we've come, not just us as a family, but _all_ of us."

"I will," he grins, while his hand wraps around my neck, caressing the nape soothingly.

"Remind them that though it'll take hard work and dedication, if we all pull together the way we have in the past four years, the next four can be full of just as much promise. If we continue taking responsibility for ourselves, we'll always be a great country."

"When did you become so politically astute?" he grins wryly.

"I once had a wonderful American Government lesson, one that I'll never forget."

He chuckles quietly. "I'll never forget it, either - none of it, Bella. All this; our family, our life, all my accomplishments, I couldn't have done it without you."

"We've made it here together, but you've always had it in you to get here, Edward."

Without breaking our gaze, he inclines his head forward and presses his mouth firmly to mine, holding my head in place by the nape of my neck. I kiss him tenderly, his lips as soft and sweet as they were that first time he kissed me over that bench in the park. And just as was the case with that first kiss, the world is full of possibilities when we're together; everything is his and mine and ours.

I'm panting when he breaks away.

"I have to go," he says regretfully, before placing a kiss on our new son's forehead and lifting his own perfect bum off our bed. He heads towards the chair in the corner to retrieve his suit jacket, swinging it over his shoulder, and picks up my discarded dress along the way, laying it carefully on the chair for me.

"Come back to me soon…President Cullen." I smile as he walks away, wondering how exactly a man wearing a rumpled suit manages to look so perfect, so handsomely together.

He chuckles and stops in his tracks, and with two quick steps he drops his jacket and is by my side once more, cradling my face in his hands.

"Bella, don't you know by now that I'm always working my way back to you?"

"I do know, Edward. I do know."

OOOOOOOOOO

You asked me the other day for our story, Ellie. Not for the one in the article I wrote all those years ago, the one that was published in Michael's magazine. You've read that, and though it's true and contains all the facts, you wanted the one with our laughter, with our tears, with our heartaches and with our triumphs.

This is that story, my love.

Your father's journey, _our_ family's journey was one that started on a rainy night in London, in a pub that's no longer there, surrounded by people of whom some are still around us, and some are just a distant memory.

We made wrong turns, mistakes which we'll never be able to fully rectify, but it has led us to where we are now, and though life is never perfect, Ellie, I hope we've made the best of it. I hope we've done our best by you.

So enjoy this story. Cry a bit. Laugh. Learn from it; share it with your brothers and sister, with your own children because after all, _that_ is the true reason for a legacy, and this is your legacy, my Love.

_This_ is the Cullen Legacy.

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**A/N: We're done, and now I simply want to thank all of you for reading, for reviewing even when things got so hectic for me this summer that I was unable to reply to most, for so many hours of speculation and discussion, of disbelief, of tears and of joy. I want to thank those who rec'd the story out there on facebook, on twitter, on your own websites and anywhere else. I truly appreciate it so much. And I really hope that this epi did the story justice in the eyes of most of you, because you were all so great throughout and deserve nothing less.**

**As for what's next: first I plan to write the two or three outtakes I promised for this story, Chapters 1 & 3 from E's POV definitely, maybe Michael's POV during the meeting between the three of them at the Jamaican restaurant. Someone mentioned that an outtake from Carlisle's POV might be a good idea as well. We'll see.**

**Then, I plan to finish Arrogance & Animosity, which I know isn't very popular out there, but it's still one of my babies and I love it very much. (Yes, yes, that was a bit of a shameless plug.) :)**

**Afterwards, I may take a bit of a break to finish something else up. But I'll be back as soon as possible, I promise. I've already got the next story in mind, and I hope to hear from you guys again. In the meantime, you can hit me up on Twitter, or on facebook, and anywhere else you may find me. :)**

**Love ya!**

**And one last time: Thoughts?**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Link to 'Stories by PattyRose' is on my profile page.**


	44. EPOV Outtake: Ch 1 - Lady-In-Red

**A/N: Hey guys! **

**Here's the first outtake I promised: Chapter one of The Cullen Legacy from E's POV. I know we talked about my doing Ch. 3 in his POV as well, but as I wrote this, I started to think that might not be necessary. This chapter should let you know basically what he was thinking and what his frame of mind was in Ch. 3. I think I'd rather use my time more wisely, to write a peek into Bella's pregnancy and birth with the twins, because I think most of you might enjoy that more. Let me know.**

**I've started getting back to reviews for last chapter, to thank you all for sticking around this long. :)**

**Betad by the wonderful Michelle Renker Rhodes**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer**

* * *

**Chapter 1 EPOV – Lady-in-Red**

**Chapter song rec: **

_**Some Nights**_** by Fun **

**EPOV**

Another fundraiser, another outstanding turnout.

As my eyes wander around the full, bustling ballroom I can't help but grin to myself. It's packed with fellow Congressman, Senators, constituents, and our newest arrival, the valuable POTUS himself. He's here only for the few minutes he can spare from running the world, but it's enough to make the necessary point to those undecided voters who are watching: he's backing me for this Senatorial run. And while I couldn't care less for my former father-in-law, and I'm pretty sure the lack of affection goes both ways, it never hurts to have the backing of the leader of the free world, right? Especially when his popularity ratings hover around the 75% mark. And let's face it, it doesn't hurt his popularity to back the run of the man who will probably succeed him in office.

All at once, I feel a slight twinge of shame when I realize how close those thoughts are to statements my father would've probably made had I invited him here today. Pointing out not only the benefits, but also the absolute necessity of the President's approval to my career goals has been his party line since Day One. It's a party line that once dictated so many of my decisions, so many of my choices…so many of my mistakes…

And apparently, I'm spewing them myself now – even if just in my brain. I shake my head imperceptibly, raking a hand through my hair before reaching up to loosen the bow-tie around my neck because I'm suddenly feeling some major claustrophobia. The grin remains plastered to my face though, for all the world to see the confident, self-assured, decisive Representative who knows exactly what he wants, knows precisely how to get there, and regrets nothing. The mask also serves to hide the true relationship between my father and I; it hides the truth about why he's made public excuses for his inability to be here tonight, the truth about why the President is backing me and why I accept his backing, it even hides the truth as to why I'll greet Tanya's arrival shortly with smiles and kisses rather than with the disgust one reserves for his cheating ex-wife. All in all, it's a pretty useful mask.

The grin grows, though no one watching me will ever guess the mockery behind it, or the contempt for a political system I can only hope to change once I win the Senate seat – because I _will_ win.

They say, "Politics is Perception." Well right now I'm perceived as a political golden boy: the best hope for the future because I know exactly what direction we need to go in as a country, and I've never wavered from that path.

Never wavered…

Despite my attempts to the contrary, my mind's eye conjures up _her_ sweet smile, hears her musical laughter coming from the soft, white bed we shared so long ago. If I concentrate enough I can still feel the silky texture of her hair between my palms, I can recall the pure trust in her eyes…I feel the heat of her touch…

An excited squeal erupts from my side at the same time that a handful of long nails cut into my right bicep.

"Here comes the President!"

Next to me, Irina vibrates with excitement. Out of my periphery, I see her compose her stance into that of a professional model: straight, unaffected, pretending not to care one damn that she's about to _finally_ be introduced to the leader of the free world - though she's talked about nothing more all evening. For a second, I want to laugh at her, but…I suppose we all wear masks of one form or another.

Martin and I greet each other with the type of handshake reserved for old friends. We make small talk, pretend we respect each other, and though I can see the derision in his expression when he greets Irina, she completely misses it. In his eyes, not only does she not belong to this world, but she's standing where he believes his daughter should've still been standing. Little does he know how impossible that would've been - for _so_ many reasons…

Though I carry on my conversation perfectly with Martin and a few other Congressmen who have joined us, my mind wanders to _her_ again, to the one I rarely let myself think of, to the one who should've been by my side tonight, to the promises we once made each other; promises which, yes, I was the first to break, yet she had no problem moving on from…

Once more, I force my mind away from her. It's drifted in her direction way too much tonight, more than usual, and it's disturbing, not only because it does no use to think of things from the past, things that can never be, but because it doesn't feel right to think of _her_ while Irina's nails trail insistently up and down my arm, raking my ribs even as Martin looks on, pretending not to notice. I give him a slight smirk while continuing our conversation as if we both don't know how much he hates Irina.

Then I feel something.

At first, it's like a strange sensation deep in the pit of my stomach, like it's suddenly empty. It's nausea but not quite because I don't feel the urge to vomit; rather it's a sort of…_expectation_. I'm in the middle of a sentence when I divert my attention away from Martin, words hanging from my mouth while my eyes roam the room with that expectation multiplying. Abruptly my entire being is _eager_; eager to find _something _though what that something may be I have no idea.

My heart begins to race in my chest, my hands are suddenly cold and clammy; a rare occurrence for me. I open and close them a few times because they've gone stiff, as if all blood and muscle control has pooled to my feet.

The room I take in is exactly the same as it was just a short while ago; still littered with the same men and women wearing the same pricey dark tuxes and pricey evening gowns. Some of the gowns are long while others are short; some sparkle while others are plain and bland. It's the identical sea of sameness it was before: the faces, the pretentiousness and the phony smiles. Everyone is alike; no one dares to be different.

Everything is exactly as it should be - except for…one _thing_.

Across the room, Michael Newton, CEO billionaire sits at one of the tables, grinning in my direction. He's talking to someone just to the side of him, a woman. Her red dress stands out like a flame in a black sea, wavy, dark hair billowing as if a warm breeze presides around her, falling loosely down the side of her face.

Michael waves me over and while under normal circumstances this would piss me off, I ignore that feeling because he's a generous campaign supporter. I _have_ to personally greet him, and anyway, my legs are already moving me in that direction.

"We'll finish catching up at another time, Edward," Martin calls out. I nod absently.

"Edward?"

I vaguely note that Irina is walking with me. The controversy of having her with me has always been one of the upsides of our relationship, but right now, her presence here feels completely…wrong.

There's no time to think of that either way because we've reached Mr. Newton. He and I exchange proper handshakes and greetings. Michael Newton has built his vast empire from scratch; an admirable feat at his age, I suppose, and while I've worked for respect and admiration in the political world, Michael is the king of commerce. It's the respect and sway that he commands in that venue which makes him valuable to me.

Right now, I can't focus on any of that. The red silhouette next to him taunts my periphery. My heart feels about ready to beat out of my chest even while I carry on small talk flawlessly with the man before me – and I have no idea why.

The vision-in-red has her head down, while one finger traces the rim of her white wine glass around and around and around, hypnotizing in its motion. Long, wavy hair hangs like a silk shield to the side of her face. She's petite, much smaller than either Newton or myself, yet the red gown she wears hugs perfectly proportioned curves, while the long slit in front reveals just enough creamy, shapely leg to be intoxicating.

At my side, Irina's not-so-discreet throat-clearing reminds me to make introductions. I muddle through a few more inane sentences of small talk before Newton finally decides to introduce _her_.

"May I introduce you to _my_ date this evening?"

I finally allow my gaze to fall directly on the vision-in-red. Her exquisite chest rises and falls heavily before she looks up, sweeping her magnificent mane aside to meet my gaze.

_Bella_.

For three seconds, my heart completely stops; it becomes a useless organ, limp and still in my chest. In those three seconds, I'm sure that I've died, that this life I've filled with pointless goals and inane activities has finally ended and somehow, _somehow_ I've been given a second chance with _her_. I'm not sure what exactly I've done to earn this second chance, but I'll take it. Bella's here, standing before me. She's my prize, my light at the end of this dark tunnel. _She_ is my heaven.

_Bella_.

In those same three seconds, I'm ready to drop to my knees in front of her, but then all at once, my heart gives a painful, hard lurch back into service, informing me that I'm still very much alive, and I see her wry grin, full of satire I never once saw that weekend - and that look completely throws me.

"This is Isabella Swan, my right hand woman at Newton Enterprises' Mergers and Acquisitions unit. She's originally from our London office but is doing me the great favor of running the _ERA_ acquisition both here and in London. She's quite a woman."

The pride and admiration in his tone echoes throughout the entire metropolitan D.C. area. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the woman standing before me is more than just an employee to Michael Newton.

Meanwhile, _Isa_bella stares at me as if she's never laid eyes on me before in her life. I have no fucking idea how to react here, but before I can do so one way or the other, her hand shoots out. I extend my own instantly.

"Congressman Cullen, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Any doubt as to who she is disappears the second her heat runs through my hand, up my arm and into every extremity in my body. I've got to physically restrain myself from gasping aloud, use every ounce of strength, every lesson of willpower my father has ever taught me to maintain the even expression on my face – my mask of protection because as I hold Isabella's cold gaze, I get the feeling I may need it.

Irina clears her throat again, louder this time. Reacting through the bewilderment threatening to shut me down, I make the necessary introductions and watch _Isabella_ carefully. She's perfectly composed as she takes in Irina, standing straight and confident without the slightest hint of shyness, of vulnerability that the English girl I once met in a pub possessed. There is nothing unsure or innocent about this woman. Her accent is perfectly polished "Queen's English" as she once dubbed it herself, without the slightest hint of London outskirts _my_ Bella once had. She _looks_ just like her…her voice…that heat she gives off…that I felt from across the fucking room…It's that same heat which at this very moment is burning my skin despite her frigid stance…

Fuck, have I finally lost my mind here?

"_Isabella Swan."_ I draw out the name slowly, taste it on my tongue, give it a twirl in my mind a couple of times while I recall _my_ Bella's words from the past:

"_We descend from Viking settlers who arrived in Scotland during medieval_ _times..."_

_Swan. _I should've guessed. It suits her perfectly.

She smirks at me, humor dancing in her chocolate eyes and I can only imagine how amusing she's finding it that I'm only now learning her last name.

"…_if she never gave you her last name, don't you think there was a reason for that?"_

The same pain that lanced through my chest the first time I heard those words spears through me now, but hiding my pain is pure instinct at this point.

"So, Ms. Swan, how do you find the U.S.?" I ask, hoping her answer will give me some insight into what the hell is going on here.

"I find it to be absolutely brilliant," she responds in that perfect British accent, without a hint of the sweet cockney of _my_ Bella. "I'm rather disappointed that it took me so long to venture over."

"And do you see this as a permanent move or simply temporary?"

"Well, that remains to be seen, Congressman."

"On what?"

I hear the desperation in my tone, the impatience, and right now, I don't give a fuck if anyone else hears it.

"On quite a few things, actually."

She holds my gaze meaningfully while my heart hammers in my chest, the heat from her proximity burning me even though we aren't even touching. I'm having a hard time breathing, and I realize that the pull to her has only grown stronger in the years I've had to live knowing she exists somewhere in this world without me – in the years I've had to exist without her. She looks the same yet different, she sounds the same yet different, but it's her, I know it is. I can _feel_ her, and though it's obvious she wants to play this game in public, I've got to find out what exactly is fucking going on.

I blink once to force my mind to focus. I command my eyes to turn away from her, to turn away from the only being I've wanted to settle them on for seven long years, so that I can think straight – so that I can plan and strategize.

The first thing I have to do is get her alone.

"Mr. Newton, it was great seeing you again. I hope that you and Ms. Swan both enjoy the rest of your evening, and if either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you, Congressman," I hear Isabella respond, though my eyes are on her boss – her date. I think I hear a mocking tone in her melodious voice, but I can't be sure. I can't be sure of anything right now. All I know with any amount of certainty is that even if it means the total destruction of everything I've built up for myself in the past seven years, if this woman before me _is_ my Bella, I'm never letting her go again.

OOOOOOOOOO

For the next half hour or so, I play the part I came here to play: the confident Congressman ready to take on the world – with the help and backing of his fellow politicians and constituents, of course.

I spend fifteen minutes joking around with the Senator from Massachusetts, discuss appropriations bills with a few fellow Congressmen, thank a few big donors for their support and promise them my backing on their lobbying efforts in return.

As my father taught me, I meet everyone's eye squarely, I pay them my full attention as they speak, only glancing away when they glance away, yet each time my eyes find her easily: the vision-in-red. Isabella Swan. _Bella_.

Emmett stands by the entrance to the ballroom, feet planted firmly about two feet apart, arms down and hands laced together in front of him. His eyes scan the room carefully.

"Another great turnout," he grins when I approach him. "You've got some heavy hitters here tonight. The Senators from New York and Massachusetts, the President," he snorts, and then jerks his head towards Michael Newton, "the billionaire CEO, who by the way has one hot ass date with him tonight. She's got to be the-"

"Emmett, it's Bella."

He frowns, his eyes swiftly scanning the room once more. "Where?"

"The woman in red," I hiss lowly. "She's _Bella_."

His eyes rest on Isabella and slowly widen. "Holy shit. Fuck. Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I say through clenched teeth. "I mean, I think so." I rake a hand through my hair. "Yes, yes, I'm sure! Her name is Isa_bella_ Swan," I snort.

Emmett nods, his head bobbing up and down pensively. "Yeah, Isabella Swan. I remember seeing the name on the guest list, but I didn't think anything of it."

"Why would you?" I smirk.

"What did she say?" he asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"She said, 'It's great to meet you, Congressman.'"

He jerks his head back. "She doesn't remember you?"

My hand finds its way through my hair once more. I resist the urge to simply grip it in my fist. "I don't know. I have no idea what's going on. One second she stares at me with a total lack of recognition, and the next second it looks like she's…taunting me."

"You want me to check her out?" Emmett asks solemnly. "I can get a file on her together in under twenty-four hours. Matter-of-fact, I can pull her aside right now and find out-"

"No, no," I shake my head. "I don't want to invade her privacy, Em, I just want to talk to her. I need to find out-" I draw in a deep breath and let it out through narrowed lips, unable to even finish my sentence, my thought. Bella's here, just a few feet away from me, and I still haven't managed to wrap my mind around that. I feel dizzy with excitement, with fear, with apprehension…with hope.

"Yo Man, you okay?" Emmett asks.

I see the anxiousness in his eyes. For all intents and purposes, Emmett is my brother; we've been through more shit together than most people see in a lifetime, and as if that wasn't enough, when I was in danger of completely losing my way, when I almost drowned in the nightmare that my life had become, Emmett was the one who helped me begin to dig my way out.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," I assure him. "I just need to speak to her and find out what the hell is going on. Why she's here and why she's acting like…like she's never met me. I need to get her alone." I rake my eyes around the room, searching for some private corner, for somewhere where I can take her to talk, but there's nothing out here that's private.

While my eyes continue searching, they land on her again. She's sitting with Michael, of course. Abruptly, she throws her head back in laughter, her soft neck exposed and teasing. I remember kissing that neck, skimming my mouth and trailing my tongue across the silky skin at her collarbone, the scent of her…

Michael suddenly leans in, obviously unable to resist that neck, and whispers something against her skin. Isabella chuckles; I can hear it from here.

My hands fist at my sides.

"Edward, look, are you sure it's a good idea to try to talk to her tonight? There are hundreds of people here, _witnesses_, and…there's a very good chance that the reason she's pretending not to know you is because she's still pissed off at you for how things ended."

I grimace at his words.

"Hey, I'm not trying to be a dick here," he says quickly.

"I know you're not, and you're right. I fucked up, I know I did. Yet when I went back for her, she'd already moved on quite a while ago. Didn't wait around for me for very long, did she?" I sneer.

"There are two sides to every story, Ed."

"Yeah," I nod absently, glaring at the way Michael's arm wraps around the back of her chair, around her shoulder, at the way he can't take his eyes or hands off of her – off of _my_ Bella.

"Yes," I exhale deeply, "there are two sides, and I simply want to find out her side of the story. Do me a favor." I blink away from Michael and Isabella and meet Emmett's gaze once more. "Keep an eye open for any opportunity in which I can get her alone tonight. As soon as you see her walk off somewhere by herself, somewhere where she and I can talk, clear the area for me."

"If you're sure that's how you want to handle it," he shrugs.

"I am."

OOOOOOOOOO

Dinner is served shortly after my conversation with Emmett.

I carry on conversation with the people at my table, with Irina at my side. Bella's table is behind me, so I can't stare at her too much without drawing attention. Therefore, periodically I turn around in my seat and pretend to sweep the room, waving at people on the other side, giving two thumbs up to the Congressmen from Maine, and as I swing back around, I hungrily devour the red vision.

She's never alone. Michael-Fucking-Newton never lets her out of his sight. They carry on conversation with the people seated at their table; he takes her out to the dance floor, his arms circling her waist possessively while she wraps her arms around his neck.

"Edward, what are you doing?"

"What?"

I flip around quickly back to Irina. She frowns at me, her eyes moving between me and the silver utensil in my hand. I look down at my plate. Apparently, I've stabbed quite a few holes into my five-thousand dollar steak, turning it into a pretty unappetizing sight.

"Oh...shit...I was…"

"Edward, let's dance," Irina pleads, wrapping both her arms around one of mine, practically hanging off of me.

"No."

"Why not?" she pouts.

What am I supposed to say? _The only woman I've ever loved just walked back into my life, and it's rendered you pointless?_

It sounds horrible, even in my head, but I'd be lying if I didn't at least admit to myself that it's the truth. I made a lot of mistakes that weekend with Bella, the first of which was not being honest with her about Tanya, not telling her that, regardless of how seriously I saw the relationship, I did have a girlfriend. It was upon that first lie that all others were built. Ever since then, I've always been honest with the women I see, at least about what they can expect from me on a personal level – which isn't much. I haven't had anything left to give, not since the weekend when I left my heart in a hotel suite in London.

So Irina has known from the beginning that this has never been more than a relationship of convenience; a way to pass time, to kill loneliness. Every relationship I've had since that weekend has been to keep myself from drowning in memories of _her_.

It doesn't mean I don't feel like a major asshole right now. Once this evening is over, so is my relationship with Irina. But Bella is back and even at this very second, though my eyes are on Irina, though Bella isn't in my sight, I can feel her; I can feel the heat of her presence and Jesus, I have no idea how I've survived seven years without it.

I don't know why she's here, but this time, I'll fight with everything I have to keep her in my life.

I look up and catch Emmett's gaze. He gives me one solemn nod, his eyes flashing to my left.

With a grin on my face, I stand up and adjust the last two buttons on my tux. "Excuse me, please."

The rest of the people at the table nod my way and continue with their conversations.

"But Edward, I want to dance," Irina whines.

"Irina, I've got some people I need to greet. We'll talk when I return."

Walking as casually as possible, I make my way across the room. A quick look in her direction shows that Bella is walking towards the rear of the room, down the hallway where the restrooms are. Emmett meets me in the middle of the room.

"Give me five minutes to clear the restroom, and then come to the back."

I simply nod in response, my heart hammering against my ribs. In five minutes, I'll be with Bella, and she can tell me what's going on.

While Emmett does what he has to do, I find a group of donors and strike up a conversation, counting down the seconds in my head. When four and a half minutes are up, I make my towards the back of the room, not meeting anyone's gaze directly to avoid being dragged into any discussions.

The long hallway leading to the men's and women's restrooms is completely empty except for Emmett. He stands in front of it with his legs shoulder-width apart once more, hands laced in front of him.

"Try to make it quick. This is a dangerous game you're playing tonight with all these people here."

"I don't give a damn," I mutter quickly as I rush past him.

When I push open the women's bathroom door, she's standing right there, waiting.

Her beautiful face is flushed, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. Her chest heaves, much more pronounced than it did in the ballroom. She's the epitome of sophistication in her expensive red dress and expensive heels, hair professionally styled and bright red lipstick across her sensual mouth, but in an instant, I see her, _my_ Bella. Underneath the dress and make-up, it's her again, sweet and innocent and so fucking trusting, and I lunge myself at her.

She wraps herself around me, losing her hands in my hair.

_Bella_.

Mine.

In my arms once more, the way she was always meant to be.

I crash my mouth to hers and part her lips with my tongue. She responds instantly, just as she did that night seven years ago. But unlike that kiss, this one is fueled by desperation, by seven years of separation. Our tongues tangle together hysterically while her hands fist my hair inside her palms. I groan from sheer joy, absolute ecstasy and pick her up, carrying her to the first surface I can find, all the while our mouths don't let up from one another.

She pulls away gasping for air, and I drop my mouth to her neck, that neck I've dreamed of, the neck I've been hungry for all night.

"Bella," I murmur dizzily against her neck, "it is you." She grips my hair tighter in response. "I wasn't sure."

She says nothing, so I let my hands wander down to her bare shoulders, further down to her hips to assure myself that she's really here, that she's flesh and blood and not some figment of my wishful imagination. But she's real; her hips are firm yet soft under my grip, curvier than I remember but still her, still beautiful, still perfect.

Nevertheless, though I can feel and taste her, my eyes need confirmation that I actually have Bella in my arms. I pull away slightly, just enough so that I can look at her at the same time that I'm holding her. My eyes trail all over her body. Her chest heaves up and down quickly.

"You look so different," I whisper. "You sound so different."

I dip my mouth to hers once more. She opens up eagerly, sucking on my lips with an intensity I've never known from her.

"But it's you," I manage to say while she devours my mouth. "It _is_ you."

Our mouths move against each other wildly, when suddenly I feel her hands on my ass, and she pulls me in, grinding herself against my now fully erect cock.

Every other muscle in my body goes lax as all the blood pools to one place.

"_Bella_." I groan, pray really while she continues rubbing herself against me, her soft skin molding against my hardness. The rest of the world disappears. I have no idea where we are, who else may be around. All that exists is my Bella and me.

And finally, _finally_ she speaks.

"Have you missed me, Edward?" she asks, sucking my bottom lip into her mouth while her hips continue their friction against my cock, pushing against the swollen tip. I feel it swell even more and I can barely breathe it feels so fucking unbelievable.

"Jesus, Bella, you have no idea," I respond shakily, honestly. I grind my pelvis around her core, my cock throbbing from how thick and engorged she's getting me. Her dress is bunched up over her thighs; I can almost feel her wetness through the thin layers separating us, and I remember…Jesus, I remember _everything_...

"What have you missed?" she asks.

Where to begin, and in what order?

Should I begin with the warmth that absolutely radiates off her?

With her dark, expressive eyes?

With hair that felt like pure, spun silk?

With her musical laughter?

With the smile that made me feel like the luckiest bastard in the world?

Should I tell her that I've missed the way she'd listen, really listen when I spoke, because no one ever listened to me that way before in my life?

Should I tell her about the encouragement she gave me with just a few words?

Should I tell her that I've missed the pure, unadulterated trust she instantly placed in me, her belief in me?

Should I tell her I've never forgotten the way that a bright sparkle would dance in her dark eyes right before every. single. smile she gave me?

Her tongue circles my lips, licking seductively, and then she wraps her strong, shapely legs around my hips, pulling me in closer still, digging her sharp heels into the back of my thighs, and fuck if I can think anymore between what she's doing to my mouth and what she's doing to my cock. My brain cells are quickly dying. She's so different, yet it's her. It's _my_ Bella.

"Tell me what you've missed about me," she breathes unevenly, her voice oozing lust. With a low whimper, she throws her head back in total abandon.

Whatever questions I had for her have quickly flown out the window. All I see is my Bella in ecstasy, mere seconds away from coming, and everything else will have to wait because I remember…

I remember that as inexperienced as she was, she liked it when I circled my hips against her wetness, coating myself in her from every angle. So that's what I do through our clothes now, reminding _her_. She moans and whimpers, biting her lip to keep from crying out loudly. Yeah, she was a virgin when I first took her, but when she came, she came loud and hard.

I fist her hair in my hands to make her back arch, to keep her head up because after seven long years, I'll be damned if I miss a second of this.

"I've missed your hair," I growl lowly, pumping against her. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, mouth sucking in ragged breaths of air. She's getting close.

I drop my hand to her sweet breasts, molding and kneading them, first one then the other. They feel rounder, heavier than I remember, yet perfect just the same.

"I've missed your beautiful tits."

She lets out a muffled cry when I stroke her nipple with my thumb. I grin smugly against her mouth, because no matter how hard she tries to hold back, if I want her to scream, she'll scream.

I grab her ass hard. "I've missed your perfect, round ass."

"What else?" she grins. "Tell me what else."

Our mouths open against one another, her heavy breaths are sweet and thick in my mouth. I grin back, my breathing as hard and heady as hers.

"_Show_ me what else."

For a fraction of a second, I think that her breathy words sound more like a challenge than a request, and for that same split-second, the thick, lust-filled haze surrounding us, surrounding _me_ lifts and clears, and something about this suddenly feels…strange…

But the clarity is gone as soon as it arrived. All I see is Bella begging me to show her all the ways I've missed her, _begging_ me to make her come.

My hand traces an eager path from Bella's ass, along her smooth hip line, under the scant piece of material covering her and circling along the delicious fuzz leading to heaven. When I slide a finger inside her, we both cry out, so loudly that I know if Emmett hadn't cleared this hallway we'd have secret service agents running in here right about now. Yet I can't find it in me to give a fuck while my eyes roll to the back of my head at the sheer fire, at the wetness between her legs, inside her tight piece of nirvana.

When my eyes can focus once more, I take in the glory that is my Bella at the brink of orgasm.

"I've missed your heat," I hiss. "I've missed your tightness and your heat," I confess, while my finger pumps in and out of her, my cock pulsing in time with my finger. She moans long and deep and I lick my lips, remembering the taste of her, _anticipating_ it.

"I've missed being inside you," I groan.

And she goes over the edge.

"Oh, _ohhh_…" she whimpers, reaching down and pushing another one of my fingers deep inside her. She wraps her palm over mine, driving my fingers in knuckle deep while she convulses around them, nostrils flared, forehead wrinkled, lips puckered in an "o". Yeah, I remember this.

My knees feel about ready to buckle from the splendor of the sight. I lick my lips while she grinds…and grinds…and grinds…and with one long, heavy breath, she drops her head and stills.

"I've missed watching you come," I grunt.

She looks up and flashes me a grin that makes both my heart and my cock jump.

"You've missed watching me come? How about fucking me? Have you missed fucking me, Edward?"

Like a couple of minutes ago, for the smallest, most minute instant, something abruptly feels amiss with this scene. It's not so much that I never pictured Bella referring to our love-making as "fucking," rather it's something in her eyes; something resembling…contempt in her smile…

But my cock is begging me for release…for the kind of high I only felt with her, and it's telling me that if Bella felt contempt for me, she wouldn't be here right now, she wouldn't have let me get her off…

And dear God, I loved her once, in a way I've never loved anyone before or since. I loved her and despite the time that's passed and the distance there's been between us, that love, that connection is _still_ there…

"Yes, Bella," I reply breathlessly, undoing my fly to release my cock from where it's straining at the bit. "Yes, I've missed fucking you."

I've missed so much more. I'm about to tell her this when her hand reaches down, and I grin expectantly at the hand job she's probably going to give me before guiding me inside her-

The next thing I know, I'm on my knees and I'm thinking that the past seven years have all been a dream, and I'm still in the war, because an IED has just detonated and blown my cock to kingdom come.

Except if my cock had been blown to kingdom come, I probably wouldn't be in this much agonizing pain.

I think I black out for a few seconds.

Then Bella is standing before the long, floor-to-ceiling glass mirrors a couple of feet away. She appears to be grooming herself; adjusting her dress and smoothing out any wrinkles, brushing her fingers through her hair to tame it once more, turning this way and that while she hums a quiet song to herself and admires her reflection.

"Goddamnit," I pant, barely able to form the word through the torture that starts at my groin and radiates like a heavy anchor throughout my entire body.

"Are you fucking insane? What the hell was that for?"

She gazes at me absently through the mirror, applying her deep, red lipstick around and around, puckering her lips and smacking them together.

"What was that for?" she echoes.

I look down at my poor, limp dick. It's still throbbing, but from an entirely different sensation now. I reach down and try to stick it back into my pants as carefully as possible, holding in a cry of utter torture the entire time.

Bella kneels down before me, cocking her head to the side.

"That, Congressman, was for coming in here and assuming that I am _still_ your weekend slut."

"Christ, Bella," I breathe through clenched teeth, "I never-"

"You've missed me, have you, Love?"

And there's my cockney girl; the one that's been missing all evening.

"Well, don't fret. You'll be getting your fill of me in the near future, you will. This here was just a taste, _Congressman Cullen_, of how I have you by the bollocks. You've missed me?" she sneers. "Trust me, pretty soon you'll wish you'd never laid your eyes on me again."

Before I can respond in any way, shape or form, before I can get off my knees, before my brain can function through the haze of pain now owning my every thought, Bella gets up and with a strut to rival that of a professional model, makes her way out of the washroom.

For a few seconds, I don't make a move, still trying to muster up the physical strength to get up here.

Emmett suddenly pops in, and seeing me on my knees, one hand covering my groin, breaks out into quiet fits of laughter.

"I told you this wasn't a good idea," he manages to say through his chortles.

"Fuck you. Go get me a bag of ice."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Aww, poor eight and a half inch, flattened member. Tsk, tsk. What a waste. **

*****IMPORTANT*****

**I just want to assure everyone that the version of "The Cullen Legacy" that Ellie received did NOT include her parents sexual exploits, LOL. Bella made sure she took those right out first. ;)**

**Alright, guys. I'm going to try to post one more outtake either late this week, or early next. After that, I'm on vacay for a bit and my internet availability will be really limited. So everything else will have to wait until I return. (Even though according to my Zombie Apocalypse Prophet we're all living on borrowed time right now).**

**Either way, I'll miss you all and I'll have one or twenty mojitos and margaritas in your names! Muahhh! **


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